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KONNEAUTT LAKE: 


A STOEY OF EAELY TIMES IN NOETH-WESTEEN 
PENNSYLVANIA. 


WILLIAM McMICHAEL, 

n 

Author of ^^The Minister's Daughter** 







Copyi-ight, 1882. 

By W. B. Smith & Co., New York. 



PREFACE. 


Konneautt Lake has many important elements of truth and 
reality. It gives accurate descriptions of natural scenery; it 
gives a true picture of society in the early times; its repre- 
sentations of personal character are drawn largely from real 
life, and very many of its incidents have a basis of fact. The 
book has specific aims: It is designed to commemorate a past 
age; it is designed to promote a love for coimtry life, includ- 
ing a love for rural employments, as well as a love for rural 
scenes and pleasures; it is designed to illustrate the domestic 
and social virtues; it is, also, designed to show that, while no 
men or women escape suffering and sorrow, the virtuous, the 
benevolent, the noble, cannot fail to secure, even in the present 
world, a measure of true happiness. 

( 3 ) 



CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB PAGE 

I. A Look at Konneautt Lake .... 5 

II. A Sunday at Konneautt Lake . . . .11 

III. A School-Meeting 18 

IV. A School 27 

V. A Look at the Countey 33 

VI. A Party 37 

VII. Winter — Its Employments and its Pleasures . 44 

VIII. A Bit of Personal History .... 51 

• IX. “Barring Out” 64 

X. Progress . . .71 

XI. Close op the School 81 

XII. Summer — Its Employments and its Pleasures . 90 

XIII. A Visit 96 

XIV. An Excursion 104 

XV. Another Visit 119 

XVI. A Comedy 123 

XVII. A Tragedy 140 

XVIII. Success .148 

XIX. Failure 159 

XX. A Wedding 166 

XXI. A Girl’s Life and Work 179 

XXII. Experiences 192 

XXIII. Two Men — Alike and not Alike . . . 200 

XXIV. A Sick Lady 206 

XXV. The Sick Lady Cured 216 

XXVI. Happy Days 232 

XXVII. Study and Literary Work . ' . . , . 240 

XXVIII. Consummation 247 


( 4 ) 


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i#a. 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


CHAPTER I. 

A LOOK AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 

Wearied by a pretty long walk in a warm October 
day, John Branley advanced slowly; but, reaching a 
slight eminence in the road, he was pleasantly surprised. 
He had, for the first time in his life, a glimpse of Kon- 
neautt Lake. He knew that he was near the end of his 
journey ; he knew that he was near a fresh and interest- 
ing scene ; and he now walked with a lighter and quicker 
step. Presently he ascended another slight elevation, 
and beheld a considerable area of water. The lake ap- 
peared as a brilliant gem with a beautiful setting of 
green. As the broken and detached clouds floated over, 
producing, alternately, flitting shadows and bursts of sun- 
shine, the water varied its color, often changing its blue 
to a darker or lighter shade, and sometimes gleaming with 
a silvery brightness. The background presented a vast 
evergreen forest. 

John Branley had just risen to manhood. He was an 
aspiring youth. Learning was the prize which he eagerly 
sought. Beyond the attainment of a good education he 
had no definite object. He had attended the academy 
and made excellent progress. But he was now com- 
pelled to earn some money, in order to sustain himself 
at school and make further acquisitions. Hearing that 
a teacher was wanted at Konneautt Lake, he resolved to 

( 5 ) 


6 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


visit that place, and he was now about to present him- 
self to the people of Evansburgh and vicinity and offer his 
services. 

Evansburgh was a small village, situated at the south- 
ern point of Konneautt Lake. John Branley entered the 
little town, met a man on the street, and inquired for 
Squire Bluffton’s residence. The squire proved to be a 
gentleman ; spoke pleasantly and kindly to the young 
stranger, learned his business, and invited him to stay 
for tea. Branley, feeling hungry as well as tired, gladly 
accepted the squire’s hospitality. Meanwhile he learned 
that the school committee would be called together on 
Monday, and that a teacher would be engaged for the 
winter term. 

Refreshed by a short rest and a cup of tea, John Bran- 
ley walked out, late in the afternoon, to see the lake and 
the surrounding country. The clouds had dissolved or 
floated away, and the winds had folded their wings and 
fallen asleep. He found an elevated, grassy spot, and 
stood quite enraptured. A beautiful scene was before 
him, — a lake as smooth as glass, three or four miles in 
length and a mile or more in breadth, the eastern shore 
exhibiting a background of high, rolling land, farms, and 
intervening groves, the western shore presenting what 
seemed to be an unbroken evergreen forest. Beyond the 
water, northward, several farms, with the usual houses, 
orchards, and meadows, were visible. 

" Charming ! charming ! ” said Branley to himself. 
"But am I not in the presence of a great solitude?” 
Not a craft could be seen on the lake ; not a human 
being could be seen anywhere on its shores. He thought 
that the lake had a very lonely aspect. He felt, too, that 
the great, dark, silent forest was somewhat gloomy and 
forbidding. 

The young man left his first position, followed the street 


A LOOK AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


7 


or highway, the lake being on the left hand, descended 
into low ground, crossed the outlet on a bridge, as- 
cended an isolated hill, which was occupied by a hotel, a 
store, a barn, and various outhouses, then paused and 
took another general survey. Westward lay the larger 
part of the village, comprising the '' meeting-house,” the 
school-house, and fifteen or twenty other buildings, great 
and small ; southward there was a great pine and hem- 
lock forest, the limits of which could not be seen. East- 
ward there was low, marshy ground, and what seemed to 
be a dense and interminable thicket. The highway, as 
far as it could be seen, followed the bank of the lake. 
Facing the water, he saw nearly the whole of the western 
shore ; and he observed two dwelling-houses which had 
been previously hidden from view. One of these houses 
stood a few hundred yards from the village, and seemed 
to be connected with a few acres of cultivated ground. 
The other house was much more remote, and appeared to 
be closely embraced by the great forest. ” Those houses,” 
thought Branley, ” are occupied by hunters and fishermen. 
That distant place is romantic indeed, but how secluded 
and lonely it seems to be I I could not choose it for my 
home.” 

The youth turned to look at the eastern shore, but 
much of it was concealed by a projecting strip of land. 
However, he did not look in vain for attractive scenery. 
A beautiful bay, nearly a mile in breadth, the shore form- 
ing more than a semicircle, presented itself. Calmly the 
blue water reposed in its ancient bed. Not a zephyr rip^ 
pled its surface ; not a fish or water-fowl caused the least 
visible motion. The water slept, and the sunbeams slept 
on its bosom. The shore, especially near the centre of 
the semicircle, exhibited many beauties. First, there was 
a gravelly beach ; then there was a broad fringe of ever- 
green trees, intermixed with other trees still wearing their 


8 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


summer robes ; then, on a high plateau, there was a range 
of beautiful fields ; then, on ground farther back, and still 
more elevated, there was a dwelling-house, large, painted 
and showy, standing in close connection with a large barn 
and an extensive orchard. "That place,” thought Bran- 
ley, " is beautiful as well as romantic. I believe I could 
live there, and spend my time quite pleasantly, — farming, 
fishing, and hunting.” 

John Branley returned to the western part of the town, 
and then resolved to take a walk in another direction. 
He observed a common which extended northward along 
the shore of the lake. He also noticed an inviting path 
which wound among clumps of elder bushes. He followed 
the path until he reached an open space, where he had a 
fine view of the water, and where he found a smooth log 
which supplied a seat. He sat down, gazed at the water 
and the surrounding landscape, and mused, thinking, now 
and then, about his prospective school. Meanwhile the 
sun was sinking behind the great forest ; tall pines threw 
their shadows upon the water, and the shadows were 
extending farther and farther. Branley watched the shad- 
ows and continued to muse. 

At length the young man’s attention was caught by a 
low murmur. He turned his head, looked, and listened. 
The murmuring sounds came nigher, and, presently, he 
espied, through an opening in the bushes, a young girl, 
who tripped along lightly and gayly, looked about care- 
lessly, and sung, or rather hummed, a little song, — 
possibly the words and music of a sacred hymn. She 
passed through the open space, and so he had a near and 
full view of the maiden. She appeared to be sixteen or 
seventeen years old ; her height was about ordinary ; her 
form was slender and graceful ; her face was angular 
rather than oval ; her features were both delicate and 
intellectual, and her eyes were large and lustrous, consti- 


A LOOK AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


9 


tilting, perhaps, her chief attraction. A bonnet was 
carried in her hand, and her uncovered head exhibited 
waves of dark, beautiful hair. Her feet and ankles were 
bare, but were white and pretty. The youth was pre- 
pared by his poetic temperament, and the fresh, interest- 
ing scenery — perhaps by the profound reverie in which 
he had been lost — for a romantic adventure. ” A god- 
dess from the wood or a naiad from the water ! ” Branley 
said or thought, as the young, pretty creature passed 
before his eyes. He was strongly reminded of Thom- 
son’s lines : 

“ Beauty 

Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 

But is, when unadorned, adorned the most.” 

The girl appeared to be startled by the sight of a 
stranger ; but she seemed — so Branley thought — to 
recognize him as the expected applicant for the village 
school, and to welcome him with a pleasant smile. 

The young maiden disappeared among the bushes ; but 
the young man continued to occupy his seat. He was 
again lost in a reverie. However, he did not ponder the 
great uncertain future; he had scarcely a thought in re- 
spect to his school ; he mused about the vision which had 
come and gone. He sat and thought for fifteen or twenty 
minutes ; but, now and then, he glanced along a vista in 
the bushes, and listened for the soft, gentle humming of 
a remarkably sweet voice. At length he heard, not the 
soft music, but the tinkling of a bell. A small herd of 
cattle soon appeared. The girl followed, carrying her 
bonnet in one hand and a rod in the other. Her face was 
flushed, apparently with exercise ; her step was light and 
graceful ; her countenance, erect figure, and elastic walk 
evinced the possession of good health, and even showed, 
as the young man thought, a spirit of independence and 


10 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


self-reliance. She did not permit Mr. Branley to hear 
the tones of her voice ; but she glanced towards the 
youth, returned his bow with a slight nod, and smiled 
again. She passed on, driving the cattle, and was soon 
lost from his view. The image of the girl remained in 
his heart. 

Love is blind, according to an old proverb. Yet the 
tender passion is excited by something that is seen, 
something that is real, or, at least, apparent ; and, 
happily, almost every young woman has qualities which 
may render her agreeable to some young man. It need 
not be supposed that the girl who passed before the eyes 
of young Branley, and made a deep impression on his 
mind, was a perfect beauty, or, in any respect, a perfect 
being. She simply had something which attracted special 
notice and won admiration. When love is enthroned it 
may be blind enough, overlooking personal faults and 
even mental and moral obliquities ; and yet, is not love 
tolerant rather than blind ? A man or a woman may see 
blemishes in the face and person of a loved one, and not 
regard them. A man or a woman may see much imper- 
fection in the temper and conduct of a loved one, and 
willingly risk a union ”for better or for worse.” Is it 
not well — even divinely ordered — that love is blind, or, 
at any rate, tolerant ? If love were not blind or tolerant 
how could it long exist? And if love did not exist, how 
could mankind endure life ? 

The young man observed that the sun had set. He 
abandoned his seat, returned to Squire Bluffton’s, and 
engaged temporary lodging. 


A SUNDAY AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


11 


CHAPTER II. 

A SUNDAY AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 

Next day was Sabbath, and Mr. Branley went to 
church with Squire BlufFton and his family. The young 
stranger took a special view of the church edifice, then 
known as the "meeting-house.” It stood on a common, 
about seventy-five yards from the bank of the lake, 
amidst clusters of low bushes. It was a large, heavy 
structure, built of hewn logs and covered with shingles. 
It had three large doors, — one in each end, and one in 
the side, opposite the pulpit. The external aspect of the 
building was unattractive. The interior was still less 
pleasing. The pulpit, standing at the side, was large and 
rough. A few seats, and a few only, had backs, the 
seats in general being benches or boards laid upon blocks 
and trestles. Old people, entering the house, and think- 
ing about their bodily comfort, were accustomed to look 
for a seat next the wall, or a seat provided with a back. 

It happened that this was a " communion Sabbath.” 
The congregation was very large. The population of the 
country was sparse at the time, but people came ten, fif- 
teen, and twenty miles, and the large house could scarcely 
hold the assembled multitude. The minister arrived and 
entered the pulpit. He was somewhat low in stature ; he 
had broad shoulders, and he was, apparently, very robust. 
His face was rather coarse, but fit was strongly marked, 
evincing talent, energy, and an unconquerable will. His 
whole appearance was decidedly impressive. 

The minister rose, and, according to custom, began the 
services by an invocation. In a few words, devoutly and 


12 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


solemnly uttered, he invoked the presence and aid of the 
Almighty Father. He then announced a psalm. It was 
the twenty-third psalm of the old version, — a psalm that 
had been sung by saints and martyrs in preceding ages, 
— a psalm that will probably be sung till the end of time. 
The minister read the first verse : 

“ The Lord’s my Shepherd, I’ll not want, 

He makes me down to lie 

In pastures green : He leadeth me 
The quiet waters by.” 

- "What a powerful voice ! What deep, solemn tones I 
What pathos ! ” Such were Branley’s unheard ejacula- 
tions. The minister came to the last verse, reading the 
first two lines with strong emphasis, and the other two 
with a softened and tremulous voice ; 

“ Goodness and mercy all my life 
Shall surely follow me ; 

And in God’s house forever more 
My dwelling-place shall be.” 

The psalm was familiar to almost every person, yet it 
was heard as if wholly new, — as if something of the fresh- 
est, as well as deepest interest. An elderly man, tall 
and slender, arose in front of the pulpit, and led the sing- 
ing. His voice was remarkably soft and melodious, and 
seemed to be perfectly adapted to a good old air of Scotia. 
A young man arose at the same time, and stood beside 
the other. His face and person were noble, almost ma- 
jestic, and his voice was strong and musical. The whole 
congregation joined, and there was a great volume of 
sound. The people, as a whole, evidently sung with the 
spirit and with the understanding. Deep emotion was 
apparent. As they sung, "My soul He doth restore 
again,” tears ran down many cheeks. As they sung, 


A SUJVDAY AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


13 


” Yea, though I walk in death’s dark vale, Yet will I fear 
no ill,” many voices trembled. And as the great congre- 
gation sung, " And my cup overflows,” the music was like 
the "sound of many waters,” and seemed to be an out- 
burst of gratitude and joy. The psalm, earnestly read 
and devoutly sung, prepared the people for the other parts 
of worship. 

The minister read the last chapter in the Bible. Then 
he offered a prayer which was marked by solemnity and 
earnestness. Another psalm was read and sung. Then 
the minister arose and announced his text. It was this : 
" And the Spirit and the bride say. Come. And let him 
that heareth say. Come. And let him that is athirst come. 
And whosoever will, let him take the water of life 
freely.” 

Mr. John Branley became deeply interested in the ser- 
vices. He was greatly moved by the hearty singing of 
the old psalms. He listened earnestly to the words read 
by the minister. And now he carefully noted the text. 
But the youth had thoughts and inquiries like these : 
" The text is highly metaphorical. It is beautiful and 
interesting. It is full of tender persuasion. It has im- 
plied promises of the most precious kind. Will the text 
suit the preacher, or the preacher suit the text? Will die 
kind words harmonize with the stern face? Can those 
invitations be given, and those promises stated, in the 
thunder-tones of his voice ? If that man should proclaim 
the law, the whole world might fear and quake. But, if 
he should attempt to publish the glad tidings, would he 
be able to use the 'still, small voice,’ — the tones that 
would melt hearts and win them to Christ ? ” The young 
man sat and listened. Very soon he forgot or disregarded 
the preacher’s peculiarities, — the coarse features, the 
severe expression, the thunder-tones. Mr. Branley was 
not a short-hand writer, but, having an excellent memory, 


14 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


h3 was able to reproduce, ia after-time, the following 
sketch of the sermon : 

The text is figurative in its language ; but it contains 
truth of the highest importance. The text assumes that 
mankind are "athirst,” — that is, to speak without figure, 
are in a state of spiritual destitution and suffering ; are 
painfully conscious of their true condition, and are anx- 
iously seeking relief. But it is a fact — a fact revealed to 
us every day — that many who are consciously athirst, 
and who suffer intensely, do not look for " living water.” 
Many seek earthly streams, —turbid streams of sensual 
gratification, or streams supplied by art and literature, 
wealth and power. Some of these streams are poisonous 
and deadly ; and none of them can allay the thirst of an 
immortal soul. The prophet expostulates with those who 
seek relief where no relief can be found, — who "hew out 
for themselves cisterns, — broken cisterns that can hold no 
water.” Again: "Wherefore do ye spend your money 
for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which 
satisfieth not?” However, there are, at all times, some 
who seek the water of life. These have been taught by 
experience, or by the Divine Word, or by the Spirit, or 
by all, that the streams of earth cannot quench their thirst. 
Sensible that they are wandering over a great desert, not 
an oasis in sight, not a tree or rock to shelter their heads 
from the fierce rays of the sun, no spring or well to sup- 
ply water, nothing in all the earth to allay their terrible 
thirst, they cry out for the Bock that can afford both 
water and shade. Are not my hearers athirst, conscious 
of spiritual want and suffering and anxious to obtain 
relief? 

My friends, there is "living water.” There is a "river 
of life.” There are "wells of salvation.” "There is a 
river the streams whereof shall make glad the city of our 
God.” The living water can satisfy man, — can allay his 


A SUNDAY AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


15 


thirst — can preserve his life — can renew his youth — 
can give him immortality. The living water is just what 
the thirsty soul needs and must obtain. It is "wisdom, 
and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption it 
it is "justification unto life;” it is "holiness, without 
which no one can see the Lord ; ” it is peace that " flows 
like a river ; ” it is hope that is " as an anchor of the soul, 
both sure and steadfast.” The living water does not be- 
long to the desert. The wells of salvation are not dug in 
the sands of the earth. The river of life flows on a higher 
plain than the plain of this world. Yet man, traveling 
over the desert, thirsting and fainting, yea, ready to per- 
ish, can certainly and quickly find the living water. He 
need not seek the distant oasis to find a well. He need 
not struggle on painfully towards a distant valley to find 
a flowing river. No ; he can find the living water just 
where he may happen to be. He can find it at any mo- 
ment. Let the traveler, as he sinks on the burning sand, 
look up, — not back or forward, to the right or to the left, 
— and he will see a " pure river of water of life, clear as 
crystal, flowing from the throne of God and the Lamb.” 
He can reach it at once, drink and live. In all ages, 
many thirsty ones, passing over the desert, have found 
the water of life. " They all drank of the Rock that fol- 
lowed them, and that Rock was Christ.” 

Has not the thirsty soul many and great encourage- 
ments? The wells of salvation are ready for use. The 
river of life is ever flowing ; pure, clear, abundant, all- 
sufficient are its waters. All thirsty ones may partake. 
All are invited, nay, entreated, to come to the waters, 
to drink and live. Who is showing to man the terrible 
nature of his thirst? Who is opening his eyes that he 
may see the water which can refresh and save him ? Who 
is saying, with more than human tones, or eloquence, or 
tenderness, "Come, come to the living water”? The 


16 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Holy Spirit. "And the Spirit says, Come.” Who is 
she that walks so lightly and swiftly over the desert, her 
person invested in a glorious robe, — a robe made white in 
the blood of the Lamb, — love and pity wonderfully blended 
in the expression of her face, her eyes fixed on the faint- 
ing traveler, one hand reaching forward towards the suf- 
ferer, the other pointing towards the throne whence the 
river flows, while, with tones unspeakably tender and 
importunate, she says, "Come, come to the living water”? 
Who? The bride, the Lamb’s wife. "And the bride 
says, Come.” Prophets, apostles, martyrs, by their re- 
corded faith and triumph in death, say. Come. All who 
hear and appreciate the Gospel — all who partake of the 
living water — should say, do say. Come. Ko price is to 
be paid for the water, for Christ has purchased it with His 
blood, and ofiers it as a gift. "Ho! every one that 
thirsts, come to the waters ; and he that hath no money, 
come ye, buy and eat ; yea, buy wine and milk without 
money and without price.” "Whosoever will, let him 
take of the water of life freely.” 

The sermon closed. The effect was very great. Per- 
haps no one was more deeply impressed than the young 
stranger. Probably not one of the great congregation 
ever forgot that sermon. Probably no one ever forgot the 
appearance and manner of the preacher. Tears flowed 
down his rugged cheeks. His voice, at times, assumed a 
wonderful tenderness and pathos. With overflowing com- 
passion, with intense earnestness, expressed in his voice 
and manner, he repeated, " Come, come ; come, ye who 
are athirst and dying, take of the waters freely, and live 
for ever.” 

The Lord’s Supper was administered in the customary 
way. There were about one hundred communicants. The 
minister announced that there would be service in the after- 
noon, closed the exercises, and dismissed the congregation. 


A SUNDAY AT KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


17 


According to the custom then prevailing, there was a 
long interval. The people left the house, walked about 
among the shrubbery, ate their biscuits, and perhaps made 
a visit to the spring at the base of the hill. 

John Bran ley left the house ; and, being a stranger, he 
walked about alone. He saw no person whom he knew. 
And, having thought awhile about the sermon, he began 
to think about the maiden whom he had seen the previous 
day. Perhaps he was anxious to see her again. He 
looked at one group of young ladies, and then at another, 
and at maidens who happened to be standing or walking 
apart ; but he made no pleasant discovery. ” She must 
be here,” the young man thought ; ” but she may be dis- 
guised in her Sunday dress.” He continued his search, 
looking for a face that had left a very distinct image in his 
memory. At length, he noticed four or five nicely- 
appareled girls, walking in company towards the bank of 
the lake, and apparently engaged in lively conversation. 
He could not see their faces ; but he fancied that one of 
them had the neat, graceful form, and the light, easy step, 
which appeared in Saturday’s vision. He followed this 
attractive group, descended a hill, approached the beach, 
and found a beautiful spring, the water lying in a gravelly 
basin, and shaded by a tree and several shrubs. Many 
persons were refreshing themselves with draughts of the 
pure, cool water. A young lady was serving her com- 
panions. She filled a pewter cup and passed it around, 
till all had partaken and said they had enough. She filled 
the cup once more, and turned around, apparently to look 
for a thirsty new-comer. Branley stood before her. 
There was mutual recognition. Blushes instantly suffused 
the maiden’s cheeks. The youth could not see what his 
face exhibited ; but he was aware that a strange sensation 
thrilled his nerves. The girl presented the cup, and said, 
modestly, "Will you have a drink, sir?” He replied, 


18 


KONNEAUTT LAKE 


courteously, "Yes, if the ladies have been served.” He 
took the cup from her gloved hand, drank the cool water, 
declared it was most excellent, and returned the cup with 
a bow and with thanks. Meanwhile the young man 
made some observations. The girl, he observed, wore a 
somewhat stylish bonnet, a neat but rather plain dress, a 
white embroidered cape, white stockings, and morocco 
shoes. No doubt she was regarded, at the time, as a 
well-dressed young woman ; and, while remembering 
Thomson’s lines, he could not perceive that a little orna- 
ment was any damage to her beauty. He still thought that 
she had a very graceful form and a very beautiful face, — 
indeed, the most intellectual, the brightest, and the sweet- 
est face that he had ever seen. Having stolen three or 
four glances at the fair, blushing creature, Mr. Branley 
walked up the bank. Flora Calvert — that was the girl’s 
name — whispered to her companions, "That gentleman 
is an applicant for our school, and I believe he is a very 
nice young man.” 


CHAPTER HI. 

A SCHOOL-MEETING. 

At ten o’clock on Monday the school committee met. 
This occurred many years prior to the adoption of the 
common-school system, now so generally established in 
the States. And it probably happened near the beginning 
of what may be called a "transition period.” New Eng- 
land people began to settle in the region, and to exert a 
modifying influence upon society. School committees, 
with certain functions, began to be appointed, especially 
in towns and villages. New ideas in regard to the 


A SCHOOL-MEETING. 


19 


authority of teachers, and the proper measures of disci- 
pline, began to spread. New branches of study began to 
be introduced into the schools. New school-books began 
to supersede the old ones, and teachers of American birth 
began to supplant the teachers of Irish birth. 

The committee organized and proceeded to business. 
Squire Bluifton filled the position of chairman. Mr. 
Bayne acted as secretary. The committee was large, 
comprising, indeed, all the citizens who wished to attend 
the meeting and share in its proceedings, and might have 
been called a "committee of the whole.” Several States 
of the Union, and several nationalities, were represented 
in this important body. Two or three of the members 
had come from New England, and, at the time, were 
known as Yankees. These members assumed the air of 
men who were educated, and who knew something. Two 
or three were natives of the Green Isle, and these men, 
learned or not, certainly had opinions of their own. One 
was a Dutchman, who had not much learning, but almost 
equalled the Irishmen in perverseness and obstinacy. The 
majority were native Pennsylvanians, who had been 
brought up in 'the woods, and received their education 
in "log colleges.” Nearly all classes, trades, and pro- 
fessions were represented in the committee. It contained 
a physician, a tanner, a blacksmith, a store-keeper, two or 
three carpenters, and a number of farmers, besides two or 
three ^'private gentlemen,” who were not known to have 
any profession or business. 

The committee naturally resolved itself into sub-com- 
mittees, in accordance with the learning and taste of the 
members respectively. Mr. Carter was proficient in arith- 
metic, having passed beyond the Cube Boot, or, as some 
of his admiring friends declared, gone "through and 
through,” while but few of the members had advanced 
beyond the Double Rule of Three. This member ex- 


20 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


amined Mr. Branley in the science of numbers. Dr. 
Marsden had studied grammar for several months, and 
knew everything in relation to parts of speech, gender and 
case, mood and tense. This member examined Mr.. Bran- 
ley in the science of language. Mr. Bayne excelled in 
penmanship, and he scrutinized the chirography of the 
applicant. Mr. Flint, the blacksmith, was famous as an 
orator, and was supposed to be profoundly versed in rhet- 
oric as a science ; but, as rhetoric was not taught in com- 
mon schools, there was no call for a display of his gifts 
and knowledge. However, he listened to Mr. Branley ’s 
reading ; and, while omitting all direct criticism, gave 
some valuable hints about inflection and emphasis. Mr. 
Branley passed the ordeal with ease ; and his qualiflca- 
tions as a teacher were unanimously approved, although 
Mr. Bayne remarked that his penmanship was a little 
faulty. Branley had not feared the examination, but he 
really feared a matter which he knew would follow. 

"We must now fix the terms,” said the chairman. 

"I move,” said Mr. Flint, "that we pay the teacher 
so much per month, and not so much per scholar.” 

This proposed an innovation. According to the old 
custom, a person who desired a school stated his terms on 
paper, agreeing to teach for a certain sum per scholar, and 
carried his paper around aAiong the people. But Evans- 
burgh had a school committee, and the committee was 
ready to make changes or experiments. Mr. Flint’s 
motion was seconded ; and it passed, almost without 
discussion, and almost unanimously. The vote was fol- 
lowed by silence for two or three minutes ; but all, no 
doubt, were engaged in thought. At length, the chair- 
man, looking pleasantly at the young man, propounded a 
question : 

" Mr. Branley, what wages do you think we should 
give you ? ” 


A SCHOOL-MEETING. 


21 


"I think I should have twenty dollars a month, besides 
boarding,” he modestly replied. 

” Twenty dollars a month ! ” several persons repeated, 
with much apparent surprise. All were silent again. 
Some of the members looked very sullen — almost angry. 
Branley felt very uncomfortable. The silence was broken 
by the chairman. 

"In my opinion,” he remarked, "a young man who is 
qualified to teach a school, and, especially, one so large 
and advanced as ours, should have twenty dollars a 
month.” 

The doctor seemed to agree with the chairman ; but the 
faces of others expressed very strong dissent. There was 
another pause in the business. 

"I move,” said Mr. Flint, breaking the silence this 
time, "that the salary be fifteen dollars a month and 
boarding.” 

The motion was not seconded ; some, perhaps, regard- 
ing the amount too high, and others, perhaps, regarding 
it too low. 

"I move,” said Bradlock, one of the wise men from the 
East, "that the salary be twelve dollars a month.” 

This motion was promptly seconded by Mr. McClelland, 
one of the farmers. Bradlock felt encouraged, rose and 
made a speech. 

" A young man cannot earn much in the winter,” he 
said. " If he earns his bread he does pretty well. I wish 
my boys could earn theirs. Then the times are hard. 
Money is scarce ; for my part I get none. How can we 
pay more than twelve dollars a month ? Our ofier is 
really good. We propose to give Mr. Branley twelve 
dollars a month and board him for nothing. Twenty dol- 
lars, indeed I Why, that is enough for the president of a 
college or the governor of a State.” 

It may be presumed that Bradlock, whether he knew 


22 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


much or little about others, knew something about him- 
self* and his affairs ; and, no doubt, he stated one fact : 
he had no money — none for himself, and none for the 
teacher. But another and more significant fact he failed 
to mention : he never earned any money. Next to the 
man who sat at the table and wielded a pen, he was re- 
garded, as the chief sluggard and drone of the community. 
He was quite unwilling to work. It was .generally thought 
that he was too lazy to steal ; and he was not smart enough 
to trade, or speculate, or cheat anybody. So the poor 
man felt utterly helpless, and looked around for pity. 
Bradloek’s character gave no weight to his opinions ; but 
as he had come from the East, and was supposed to be 
acquainted with educational matters, his speech made some 
impression. The Yankee was followed by the Dutchman, 
using his bad English. 

"I tinks,” he said, "as how twelve tollars be plenty.” 

The Dutehman was followed by an Irishman, using his 
broad pronunciation and his mannerism. 

"I sell my rye at fifty cents a bushel, so I do, and I 
can’t afford to pay high wages to a tacher. Last winter I 
paid just eight dollars a month to my thrasher, so I did ; 
and thrashing is much harder work than taching, so it is. 
Mr. Branley should be well satisfied with twelve dollars a 
month, so he should.” 

Mr. Bayne remarked, without rising : " We should give 
better wages. We should encourage young men to pre- 
pare themselves for teaching. If we give poor wages we 
shall have poor teachers and poor sehools.” 

Mr. Bayne’s words were sensible and weighty. Un- 
fortunately, he was a man who seldom paid a debt, and 
always failed to pay the minister and the school-master ; 
consequently, his words had no effect. No reply was 
made to the secretary. 

The chairman stated the motion. The vote was taken. 


A SCHOOL-MEETING. 


23 


Five or six voted in the affirmative ; two voted in the nega- 
tive. Several remained silent. So the committee decided 
that the teacher should receive twelve dollars a month, 
with gratuitous board and lodging among the employers. 

Branley was surprised ; he was also indignant. His 
first impulse was to leave the house and the neighborhood. 
”Have I struggled so hard and so long to qualify myself 
for teaching, and yet can get only twelve dollars a month ? 
Plow little these men sympathize with a youth who is 
aspiring to be a scholar, and is anxious to do something 
in the world ! ” However, the young man said nothing 
aloud, except this : "You offer very low wages, while I 
am anxious to earn money and complete my education.” 
He had further reflections : " Schools needing teachers are 
few ; wages are really low ; perhaps I could not get 
another school ; perhaps I could not get better wages 
anywhere ; I must earn some money ; it would be better 
for me to do a little than to do nothing ; shall I accept or 
refuse this offer ? ” 

The members of the committee saw that the young man 
felt a sore disappointment, and that he was hesitating in 
regard to his acceptance or refusal of the offered salary. 
The chairman uttered a few words, expressive of sym- 
pathy for the youth and approval of his aspirations and 
efforts. Then the doctor rose, and, addressing Mr. 
Branley, made a somewhat formal speech. 

"My young friend, you have had no experience as a 
teacher, and, therefore, should not expect high wages at 
present. When you have proved your qualifications, or 
established a character, you will do much better. Let me 
assure you that industry, care, and time will enable you 
to surmount all difficulties, and to achieve any measure of 
success. Perhaps, in the course of time, you will be a 
professor in a renowned college, and receive a thousand 
dollars per annum or more.” 


24 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


* The doctor’s words were soothing. The youth’s exas- 
peration passed away rapidly. The doctor’s words were 
encouraging and stimulating. And Mr. Branley said, 
" I accept the wages.” 

The majority of the committee looked as if they were 
entirely satisfied with themselves, their teacher, and 
everything. Yet an unexpected trouble presented itself. 
A member, rising up suddenly, spoke as follows : 

"We must say something about the government of the 
school. Our school, you know, is very large. Many 
big boys and girls will be scholars. Our teacher must 
be stem. He must use the rod. He must really be 
master.” 

He sat down, and another member, rising, observed, 

"I have also a word to say. Let there be no partiality 
in the school. If the boys misbehave, let them be pun- 
ished. If the ■ girls misbehave, let them also suffer. 
When Mr. Colburn’s son, who struts about in fine clothes, 
and Mr. Sheddan’s son, who must go to school in rags, 
misbehave, let one be chastised as well as the other.” 

Bradlock turned on his seat, and, looking directly at 
Mr. Branley, said, in a firm tone, 

"I wish you to know, once for all, that I do not allow 
my children to be whipped. No man or woman shall 
ever apply a rod to my child’s back. Remember, sir.” 

The chanman looked rather disconcerted. Some of the 
members exhibited signs of strong displeasure. Mr. 
Branley came very near saying, " Gentlemen, I throw up 
the school. I cannot please you, and I will not waste my 
life and energies in attempting impracticable things. 
Teach your own children, and govern them as you 
please.” However, he said nothing ; and, presently, the 
chairman remarked, 

"Friends, we have entrusted the school to Mr. Bran- 
ley, and we should allow him to govern it according to 


A SCHOOL-MEETING, 


25 


his own judgment. If we prescribe particular rules for 
his guidance, or continually interfere with his manage- 
ment, — especially if every man’s notions must be put 
into practice, — there can be no school at all. New notions 
are coming pretty fast just now. But let new things 
come from any quarter, even from the East, we must look 
at them awhile before we adopt them. Of course,” con- 
tinued the chairman, "the parent who cannot entrust his 
children to Mr Branley, has liberty to keep them away. 
Perhaps Mr. Bradlock can show us all, by his example 
and success at home, what teaching and governing 
to be.” 

These remarks appeared to be generally approved. 
They silenced Bradlock. They calmed Mr. Branley’s 
mind ; and he was soon capable of serious reflection. He 
thought again about his necessities. Besides, to state a 
fact, he remembered a face — young, innocent, rosy, 
bright, — a face which he had seen on Saturday and on 
the Sabbath, and which he very much wished to see 
again. And he felt that if he should give way to passion, 
seize his hat, retire from the house, and hurry away from 
the neighborhood, he would see that face no more. So 
he did not recall his engagement ; he resolved to risk 
whatever should come, — in the school or out of it. 

The committee now hastily resolved, first, that the 
school term should be five months, and not three months ; 
secondly, that the school should commence the first Mon- 
day in November ; and, thirdly, that Mr. Branley should 
circulate a paper, stating that the employers agreed to 
pay him twelve dollars a month, and that each employer 
should pay in proportion to the number of scholars 
annexed to his name. 

Mr. Branley modestly suggested that the committee, 
having fixed the salary, should also raise it. Two or 
three of the members said that Mr. Branley’s suggestion 


26 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


was reasonable ; and, while they proposed no change in 
the action of the committee, they offered to aid him in 
circulating the paper. The majority said nothing, and, 
of course, offered nothing. The committee, having fin- 
ished its business, adjourned sine die. 

As Mr. Branley was retiring, Bradlock approached and 
whispered, ”I wish you to know, sir, that my house is very 
small, having only one chamber below and a little garret 
above. Our beds are crowded together. As we keep no 
Iceow, we have no milk and butter ; and bread and meat 
are not plenty. We are very poor, and you hadn’t ought 
to board with us. You can find other places.” Branley 
made no reply. Of course he felt the profoundest con- 
tempt for the man. 

Mr. Branley, aided by a few persons, called upon the 
citizens of the district and presented his paper. They 
signed cheerfully and promptly, and he soon completed 
his preparatory work. 

While walking homeward, Mr. Branley had, as a mat- 
ter of course, many thoughts and reflections. He thought 
that he had learned something. " I have learned some- 
thing about human nature,” he said to himself. "I have 
learned that some men are honorable and generous, while 
others are unspeakably selfish and mean. I have also 
learned that some people live without a purpose, and 
almost without exertion of any kind.” Besides, the young 
man thought that he had accomplished something. Ho 
said to himself many times, have found a school, and, 
possibly, a sweetheart.” 


A SCHOOL, 


27 


CHAPTER IV. 

A SCHOOL. 

The morning of the first Monday in November was 
auspicious. There was no storm. There was not a visi- 
ble cloud. Indian summer had come, and the golden 
sunshine made all the world golden. People who hap- 
pened to be abroad were cheerful and happy. And Mr. 
John Branley was certainly not dejected and miserable. 
He enjoyed the beautiful weather. Besides, he experi- 
enced a new and pleasant excitement. He was about to 
engage in important business, and had a fair prospect of 
success. He was conscious that his aims were high and 
worthy. He had not a thought concerning his low wages ; 
he was thinking now about leading young folks along the 
flowery paths of science, and of achieving for himself a 
high and lasting reputation as a teacher. O blessed time 
of youth ! when failure and mortification are so soon for- 
gotten ; when wounds so readily heal ; when hope springs 
afresh in the bosom ; and when new, vigorous efforts can 
be made to accomplish the purposes of life ! 

John Branley walked towards the school-house. The 
building stood on a common, near the church. It was a 
much better house than the ordinary houses of the coun- 
try. Like the church edifice, it was built of hewn timber 
and covered with shingles. It had peculiarities which 
made it famous* It had glass windows ; it was provided 
with a few separate desks, and it was heated with a stove. 
The house was exactly square, and it was large enough to 
accommodate sixty or seventy scholars. Mr. Branley’s 
walk was short that morning. Yet, short as it was, he 


28 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


had time for a considerable number of mental inquiries. 
Among the number were these : ” Will my school be 

large? Will it be pleasant? Will my scholars be studi- 
ous, mannerly, and easily governed? And, TFiYZ she be 
one 9^^ The young man had not made a single inquiry in 
regard to the girl who had interested him so deeply.* He 
had not even learned her name. Pie had seen her only on 
two occasions. He had spohen to her only once. Yet he 
felt that he knew her perfectly. The large, brilliant eyes, 
the nicely-sculptured features, the calm expression, the 
sweet, unaffected smile, the manifest refinement and deli- 
cacy, were a demonstration to him that the girl was intel- 
lectual, pure, and amiable, or all that a woman could be. 
His actual and only inquiry, therefore, was this: "Will 
she be a scholar?” 

As Mr. Branley appoached the school-house, he saw 
fifteen or twenty boys engaged in play on the common. 
V ery few of the boys appeared to notice him ; and only 
twjo or three bowed and said, "Good-morning, sir.” The 
play and the noise continued. " These children are some- 
what rude,” the teacher said to himself. He entered the 
house, and observed fifteen or twenty scholars, some of 
therii sitting, others frisking about, all, or nearly all, talk- 
ing and laughing. " I shall have a serious task,” was the 
young man’s reflection. Meanwhile children and young 
people were coming from all quarters. Presently, Mr. 
Branley stepped to the door, and said, in a pleasant way, 
"Boys, come in; the school hour has arrived.” The boys 
threw down their bats and entered the house. P^he 
teacher then requested the scholars to take seats. Pie had 
a pleasant surprise. They obeyed instantly ; bustle and 
confusion ceased; order and silence reigned. "These 
children and young people,” he thought, "have been at 
school before ; they have certainly had some good train- 
ing. The teacher, standing in the centre of the house, 


A SCHOOL. 


29 


took a general survey of his school. He was pleased. 
He saw fifty or sixty scholars, nearly all of them neatly 
and comfortably clothed, and nearly all exhibiting bright 
faces, if not a special eagerness for the acquisition of 
knowledge. Many small children were present, and these 
were kindly noticed by Mr. Branley. There were, also, 
many ” young men and maidens,” — youth in early, vig- 
orous manhood, and girls in early, blooming womanhood. 
Branley’s eyes glanced along a back seat occupied by a 
number of the young women, and, with emotions which it 
would be impossible to describe, he saw that she was 
there. Now, what did the scholars see? A stranger, — 
a young man, slender in person, having an intelligent, 
thoughtful face, and gentlemanly, pleasing manners. Mr. 
Branley won confidence and respect at once. Many schol- 
ars, large and small, were ready to say, ”We like our 
teacher very well.” 

The teacher proceeded to make a roll. Standing at the 
desk with a pen in his hand, he addressed a lad who sat 
near, 

”My boy, what is your name?” 

" John Patton, sir,” answered the boy, looking up and 
speaking boldly. 

"And what is your name, my little man?” asked the 
teacher, speaking softly to a very little fellow who sat 
next to John. 

" Freddy,” he stammered, his head drooping and his face 
covered with blushes. 

The older brother supplied the other part of the name, 
and the teacher proceeded with his work, passing from 
seat to seat. When he had written fifty or sixty names 
and nearly completed the roll, he turned to the back seat, 
occupied by four of the older girls, and said, politely, 

"Ladies, please give your names in the order in which 
you sit. First name?” 


30 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


"Jane Folsom,” answered a blonde, with a toss of the 
head and a little laugh. 

" Next ? ” inquired the teacher. 

"Sarah Van Arsdale,” replied a brunette, who was 
older and more sedate than the other. 

"Next?” said the teacher, in a firm tone. 

" Caroline McConnell,” replied a girl, who had a large, 
rotund figure, and a fine, healthy complexion. 

"Next?” the teacher said, or attempted to say, his 
voice scarcely articulating the word. 

"Flora Calvert,” responded the girl whose face and 
form had haunted Mr. Branley for thirty days and nights. 

"That is a beautiful name,” he thought. "It will look 
pretty on paper, as well as sound pleasantly to the ear.” 
But the teacher’s hand trembled, and he wrote the name 
badly. " I will write it better,” he said to himself, " when 
I transcribe the roll.” 

It suddenly occurred to Mr. Branley that he must have 
seen these four girls together at a former time. Beflect- 
ing a moment, he concluded that these were the well- 
dressed and attractive young ladies whom he liad seen 
walking on the church common, and whom he had followed 
to the spring. He was destined to see these girls together 
many times, not only in the school, but at church, at sing- 
ing-schools, and at parties. 

The teacher proceeded to classify the scholars ; but he 
soon discovered that the object was unattainable, except 
to a very limited extent. Diversity in the school-books 
was the insuperable difficulty. There were seven different 
works on arithmetic, five different spelling-books, three 
different works on grammar, and about a score of different 
books intended for the readers. He saw that he must 
teach the scholars separately, or, at best, only in small 
classes* 

Mr. Branley entered upon the performance of liis gen- 


A SCHOOL. 


31 


eral duties, — assigned lessons, wrote copies, made and 
mended pens, heard recitations, solved questions in arith- 
metic, and looked over his large school. Ilis duties were 
novel and interesting, but his labors were very exhausting, 
as he found before the close of the day. 

Has the teacher of the present time any conception of 
the inconveniences, toils and trials, experienced by one 
who taught fifty, sixty, or seventy years ago ? The mod- 
ern teacher has a large school-room, sufficiently lighted, 
heated, and aired, and supplied with convenient desks, 
comfortable seats, blackboards, globes, and maps. His 
school has a full supply of suitable books, and the schol- 
ars are elassified. He can hear twenty scholars recite 
almost as easily as he can hear one. He never makes or 
mends a pen. His wages are fixed — commonly, at least 
— by intelligent, honorable officials, and not by the most 
ignorant and niggardly persons in the community. He is 
sustained, and may be protected in the discharge of his 
duties, by directors, superintendents, and State authority. 
The modern teacher may rejoice that he lives at a time 
when, comparatively considered, his labors are light and 
his rewards are great. 

It may seem that, in respect to one important matter — 
effective government — the teacher of early times had an 
advantage over the teacher of the present day. In those 
times the Bible was authority in all things. The Bible, 
as was universally believed, authorized family govern- 
ment, and supplied the necessary rules and sanctions. 
The teacher, exercising a power delegated by parents, felt 
that he acted under Divine authority, and administered 
rules prescribed by Prophets and Apostles. Conse- 
quently his position was strong, and his government 
effective. The people never questioned his authority ; 
and, while they may have sometimes questioned his wis- 
dom, or disapproved his temper, they seldom objected to 


32 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


his customary modes of discipline. At present, the teacher 
derives his authority from the State, and, in* late years, 
theory and sentimentalism have, to a considerable extent, 
superseded the teaching of the Bible, in respect to gov- 
ernment, rights, laws, and punishments. School authori- 
ties, teachers, and many parents, are at sea, without a 
chart, without a compass. School government is as un- 
certain, diverse, and changeable, as the whims of legis- 
latures, school boards, and teachers who may not have 
grown to be men and women. School government, there- 
fore, is necessarily weak and inefficient. Government in 
the school, and even in the family, is scarcely a shadow 
of what it was in the early times. Able and experienced 
teachers now declare that, in the management of schools, 
"there is no uniformity of thought, and, consequently, no 
progress ; ” that teachers " spend their days in more or 
less blundering experiments ; ” that there is a necessity 
for "a science of discipline,” based on the "nature of 
things.” Men have clearly discerned an evil in school 
government, but have failed to provide a remedy. Can 
there be "uniformity of thought,” or can there be a true, 
adequate, and permanent "science of discipline,” unless 
the Bible is recognized as the supreme authority in the 
government of schools? The question is submitted as 
one of the great questions of the age. 

Mr. Branley finished his first day’s work, and dismissed 
the school. Almost every boy left the house with a run, 
spring, and shout. The girls went away ingroups, walk- 
ing or skipping, chatting or laughing. The teacher 
walked slowly to his boarding-house, wearied, indeed, 
beyond all former experience, but rather pleased with his 
school and his duties, and hopeful that rest would restore 
his physical and mental vigor. 


A LOOK AT THE COUNTRY, 


33 


CHAPTER V. 

A LOOK AT THE COUKTKY. 

We mourn over the departing? glory of the American 
forests. The mountains and valleys, the rivers and lakes, 
remain, impressing us with their grandeur, or charming 
us with their beauty ; but the magnificent forests have 
almost entirely disappeared. Where is the great oak, 
lifting its huge arms, and supporting, as we fancied in our 
childhood, the vault of heaven? Where are the stately 
pines, towering far above common trees, their crests 
gleaming in the sunshine or waving in the storm, and 
their robes ever green through summer and winter? 
Where is the haunt or scene untouched by the hand of 
man, — haunt or scene, with its beech and birch trees, 
dense foliage, delightful shade, modest flowers, aromatic 
airs, mossy rocks, limpid spring, murmuring rill, and 
free songsters, — a place where- poets could quietly 
dream, where the genii of the woods could have a palace 
and a home? True, man must have a dwelling-place. 
He must build houses, villages, cities. He must have 
countless acres divested of trees, and prepared for culti- 
vation. Urged by his necessities, as well as by his ava- 
rice and ambition, he must wage perpetual war against ^ 
the forest. True, cultivated fields, green meadows, golden 
harvests, growing towns and cities, present a very grand 
and interesting spectacle. And yet, we may feel a meas- 
ure of regret when we see the great forests, with their 
peculiar beauty, and a very large portion of the creatures 
which they sheltered and fed, swept from the face of the 
earth. ' 


34 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


The country which surrounded Konneautt Lake had 
neither mountains or rivers. Apart from the lake, its 
great natural beauty and attraction were its dense, heavy 
forests. As these disappeared, the country lost much. 
If it gained in one way, it certainly lost in another. 

A settlement really new may have the appearance of 
age. Dwelling-houses and barns, constructed with round 
logs and covered with clapboards, soon decay, and, having 
stood a few years, may look old and shabby. Neglected 
fields may be soon overrun with briars and thorns. It 
must be admitted that, at a certain time, the region which 
encircled Konneautt Lake was not specially attractive. 
The first settlers were, generally, very industrious people. 
But they had assumed a heavy task. To make productive 
farms and pleasant homes in the great wilderness re- 
quired the hard, steady labor of many years. The first 
settlers, as a class, were compelled to live, for a long 
time, in small, inconvenient, unsightly houses. In many 
a case, when a dwelling-house had become rotten and 
scarcely safe, the owner found himself unable to build a 
new one. Some of the first settlers were indolent, and 
some were hunters and trappers. The home of a slug- 
gard, in a new settlement or an old one, is never pretty, 
and never supplied with conveniences and comforts. The 
home of a hunter or trapper is seldom just what it should 
be. Some "improvements,” as they were called, had 
been abandoned ; and these deserted places tended to give 
a dreary aspect to the country. Meanwlule the forests 
were disappearing ; and those which remained had lost 
much of their original beauty. The axe had committed 
its depredations almost everywhere ; besides, it frequently 
happened that a storm, rushing through an open region, 
struck the standing timber with irresistible force. The 
remaining forests, at least in many places, looked torn, 
thin, and unattractive. 


A LOOK AT THE COUNTRY. 


85 


In some respects the population was diverse. There 
were natives of the State, natives of New England, Ger- 
man and Irish immigrants, and a few others, following 
their different customs, and using their different languages 
or dialects. Families differed somewhat in outward cir- 
cumstances ; and they differed widely in intelligence and 
refinement. Yet there was much social equality : at least, 
there Avas much friendly intercourse. The grades which 
existed among the people were produced, not by a differ- 
ence in nationality, language, or wealth, but by a differ- 
ence in education and moral qualities. 

There was life in the country. As a Avhole, the people 
were busy. Men Avere busy, clearing land, building fences, 
ploAving, sowing, reaping, sometimes hunting or fishing, 
and doing, perhaps, a hundred other things. Here and 
there a neAv farm Avas starting in the forest, or a neat and 
commodious house was rising in close proximity to the old 
cabin. Women were busy, nursing their babies, cooking, 
Avasliing, spinning, and Aveaving, making new garments 
or mending old ones, and sometimes hoeing or Aveeding 
in the garden, — in fact, doing so many things that they 
could not be named or numbered. The young folks were 
busy, especially in summer, doing their appropriate work. 
There were many young, buoyant, exulting hearts in the 
rising community. Hundreds of rosy faces could be seen 
in the houses, gardens, and orchards. Hundreds of lively, 
energetic lads could be seen in the fields and the Avoods. 

Noav, had the young people, as a class, no recreations 
and amusements? AVere the young people, as well as the 
old, enslaved by toil? Did the young men handle the 
axe, hoe, and sickle, day after day, Avithout any relaxation, 
without any pleasant change? Did the young Avomen 
cook and Avash, spin and weave, and pursue an endless 
course of drudgery? AVas young life blighted, or pre- 
maturely worn out, by work and hardships? Was youth 


36 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


passed without enjoyment? No. It is true that the 
young people were required to share in the labors of the 
house or the field ; but they had their periods of rest, 
their recreations, their amusement s. They could not at- 
tend theatres, or opera-houses, or fashionable balls ; they 
could not listen to a " star preacher ; ” they could not hear 
a lecturer who had gained celebrity by some fortunate 
accident — perhaps by an act of stupendous folly or wick- 
edness ; they could not array themselves in costly fabrics 
and glittering jewels, and visit the places of fashionable 
resort ; they could not cross the sea and ” make the tour 
of the continent.” And yet, these young people had 
grand opportunities to secure change, recreation, pleas- 
ure, amusement, or almost everything demanded by their 
active, craving nature. They could walk in the sunshine ; 
they could breathe the pure air ; they could sail on the 
smooth waters of the lake, float among lilies — sometimes 
among ducks, gulls, and swans ; they could make excur- 
sions to the hills and gather nuts, or to the marsh and 
gather cranberries ; they could ramble in the magnificent 
forest — that great park of the world ; they could stand 
in the great temple of nature, gaze at the sublime archi- 
tecture, view the ten thousand chaste and beautiful or- 
naments, and listen to anthems sung by untrained but 
inimitable choirs. 

Sometimes, near the close of day, young men and 
maidens issued from almost every house. These young 
people were healthy and active. They could walk, skip, 
and run. They never rode in a carriage; they seldom 
rode on horseback. The young men were commonly 
clothed in "homespun,” and, of course, were somewhat 
rustic in their manners ; but, as a class, they had some 
education and intelligence ; and they had, very generally, 
the beauty constituted by a full stature, a robust body, 
and a fair Qharacter, The girls, wore neat, plain dresses ^ 


A PARTY. 


37 


they had no rings on their fingers, but they had roses on 
their cheeks ; as a class, they had the beauty of modesty ; 
and their hearts overflowed with life and gayety. How 
lightly they stepped, how naerrily they chatted, as they 
proceeded on their way ! The numerous bands, leaving 
homes three or four miles apart, converged, met and 
mingled, constituting, for a time, one people. Why did 
the young men and the young women leave their homes 
and come together? Let us see. Let us observe them 
on a particular occasion. 


CHAPTER VI, 

A PARTY. 

Mrs. Calvert was a widow. She and her unmarried 
children lived on a farm lying in the vicinity of Konneautt 
Lake. Their dwelling-house was rather better than the 
ordinary class of houses in the neighborhood. There was 
a large front- yard containing some common shrubbery. 
North of the yard, and adjoining the public road, there 
was a large garden enclosed with paling, and designed for 
both flowers and vegetables. On one side of the house 
there was a pretty valley, with its winding, murmuring 
brook. On every side there were fields presenting an 
undulatory surface and a slight southern aspect. The 
dwelling-house and its adjuncts were, as a whole, neat 
and attractive ; but the farm, having wanted, for some 
years, the skill and oversight of an experienced manager, 
was not in a very good condition. Mrs. Calvert, how- 
ever, being industrious and careful, and having received, 
for some time, valuable aid from Charles and Flora, was 


38 


KONNEANTT LAKE. 


able to live in comfort. She was an intelligent and re- 
fined woman, and maintained a most respectable position 
in society. Her good qualities, no doubt, had an impor- 
tant influence on her children. 

One evening, early in November, Flora Calvert stood 
in the front door. The sun had set, — indeed, night had 
come ; but the moon was rising and supplying light to 
the world. The girl hurriedly looked up the road and 
down the road, and in almost every direction. She could 
easily discern objects at a considerable distance ; and she 
now saw many young people approaching the house, some 
walking on the road, others walking in the fields. Flora 
recognized, as she thought, two of her particular friends. 
She stood and watched them, her heart beating with 
pleasant anticipations. Presently two girls came up, and 
Flora cried, in gleeful tones, 

” Good-evening, Sarah. Good-evening, Jane. You 
are coming, I see, a thousand strong.” 

Oh, no,” replied Jane, ” not a thousand strong ; I guess 
about a hundred strong. Evansburgh will supply a little 
army. But, Flora, don’t you wish to see a big crowd? 
We town’s people can work, talk, laugh, and romp ; and 
as for eating pies and apples, we surpass all others. 
Flora, would you not like to see a little crowd from 
Evansburgh ? ” 

”Yes,” answered Flora, gayly. ”I wish to see a 
crowd. We have fifty bushels of apples, which must be 
pared, quartered, cored, strung, and suspended for dry- 
ing. Oh, yes, we want a good deal of work done. As 
for eating pies, that will depend on your good conduct. 
If you spend your time idly, as Evansburgh people are 
apt to do, you shall have nothing. But say, girls, who 
are coming from town ? ” 

"Why, Sophia Hunt, Mary Campbell, and — and — 
Henry Stafford, George Courtney, and — and — Mr. 


A PARTY. 


39 


Branley. But, Flora, these gentlemen will do you no 
good. George is too proud to work. Henry will eat 
all the apples he pares, and more if he can get them. 
As for our teacher, you must not let him work ; paring 
apples would spoil his hands ; and his hands, you know, 
must be kept in order.” 

Meanwhile other parties arrived, received warm saluta- 
tions from Flora, and entered the house. The gentlemen 
from Evansburgh arrived in due time. 

The gathering at Mrs. Calvert’s was an "apple-bee, ” or 
a "paring.” It was designed for work, not for social 
entertainment and pleasure. However, some people who 
had lived beyond the merry time of youth, or who were 
cynical by nature, said it was a " frolic ;” vrork, in their 
opinion, being no part of the business. In practice, 
Mrs. Calvert’s party happily combined work and pleasure. 
Indeed, in early times it was often the deliberate purpose 
of young folks to combine " work and play ; ” and it is 
highly probable that their pleasure, associated with useful 
work, was as real and satisfactory as the pleasure of those 
who, having money, time, and high social position, make 
pleasure the sole object of pursuit. 

Mrs. Calvert sat in her private room, and paid little 
attention to the party. Charley had made the prepara- 
tions, but Flora presided over the hive of workers ; Flora 
was queen. The work was begun and prosecuted sys- 
tematically ; but as machinery had not been introduced, 
the several processes of the business advanced slowly. 
Some of the party were not over-diligent, and others were 
not over-careful. Sometimes a girl seemed to forget what 
she was about ; her eyes turned away from her apple ; 
her fingers and knife ceased to move, and the apple re- 
mained for a time half pared. Sometimes a young man, 
when his thoughts and eyes were engaged with something 
apart from his work, made his parings entirely too thick. 


40 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


and so wasted the fruit. But to stop the clatter and 
insure good work at an apple-bee were recognized as things 
lying among the impossibilities ; and, consequently, noise 
and bad work were always cheerfully endured by the house- 
wife. 

Almost every large company has a wit or ” smart 
fellow.” Mrs. Calvert’s party had a very distinguished 
one, — Henry Stafford. Other young men of the party 
were sprightly and jocose ; but Stafford was king : no 
one questioned his supremacy. Stafford was one of the 
two '"storekeepers” who were recognized as the great men 
of Evansburgh. He was a portly, handsome man, and, 
as was generally believed, had abilities of a high order. 
He was older than most of the young men present at 
Mrs. Calvert’s. He had traveled ; he had read many 
books ; he was a reader of magazines and newspapers ; 
he was a musician, excelling, in vocal music, and able to 
perform on several instruments ; and he had enjoyed, to 
some extent, the society of educated and well-bred peo- 
ple. Now, a shallow man may tell a story and raise 
a laugh ; but Stafford, while he seemed to have an 
unlimited supply of anecdotes, and could tell them admi- 
rably, had such keen perceptions as enabled him to see 
whatever was ludicrous, or could be made ludicrous, in 
anything and everything around him ; and he had such 
power of language as enabled him to give expression to 
his grotesque ideas and fancies. Consequently, he never 
failed to be entertaining. At the same time he was 
gentlemanly and courteous, seldom showing a proud and 
masterful spirit, or giving oflPense. Stafford could talk 
soberly and sensibly ; but sober and sensible talk was not 
especially needed at an apple-bee. On this occasion he 
was in his gayest mood, and gave full play to his wit. 
Everybody listened to him. Everybody laughed at his 
jokes. During the evening pleasantries often passed 


A PARTY. 


41 


between Stafford and Flora Calvert. He seemed to take 
great pleasure in exposing himself to this girl’s repartees. 

” Flora, ’’said Stafford, at one time, "these boys and 
girls are very idle ; give me a switch, and I will keep them 
at work.” 

"Henry,” remarked Flora, " the idleness appears to be 
on your side. I w^ould give the switch to them if I 
thought they could master you and keep you at work.” 

Flora,” cried Stafford, at another time, "I am hun- 
gry ; won’t you pity me, and give me something to eat?” 

" Eat apples,” said Flora. "Judging from appearances, 
I must believe that you relish that kind of food.” Then, 
turning to Jane Folsom, she remarked, "Jane, I see you 
told the truth in regard to Mr. Stafford’s great fondness 
for fruit.” 

After joking awhile with those who sat near, Stafford 
suddenly cried out, 

" Flora, Flora, I am sleepy ; won’t you permit me to 
go home ? ” 

Flora, standing before the company, said, with a mis- 
chievous look, and suppressed tones of voice, 

" Go into the other room ; mother will put you in the 
cradle, and sing a lullaby.” 

Stafford laughed heartily. The whole company laughed. 
But, presently, the joker assumed a most serious aspect, 
threw down his knife and apple, stamped on the floor, 
and made a speech : 

"Fellow-citizens: — Our queen has become haughty; 
she is supercilious ; she is tyrannical and cruel. See, she 
would take me, a man of full age and size, transform me 
into a baby, put me into a cradle, and sing hushaby. 
Would not that be an outrage? It shall not be done. 
I resist. I will head a rebellion, dethrone this proud, 
cruel queen, and put another in her place. Who will it 
be? Here is Jane the rosy, who would match Lady 


42 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Jane Grey ; here is Sarah, with the dark, brilliant eyes ; 
and here is Caroline, with the stately, majestic form. 
One of these must be our queen.” 

Stafford paused in his harangue. Turning his eyes 
from the girls whose names he had just pronounced, he 
looked at Flora. She stood not far away, listening 
keenly, but showing no signs of alarm. He resumed his 
rhapsody ; but his tone had wonderfully changed, and he 
reached a totally different conclusion. Whether his words 
had, or had not, a serious and important meaning is a 
question which can never be answered. 

"After all,” said Stafford, addressing the company, 
" Flora makes an admirable queen. Her looks are 
superb. She has wisdom and goodness. And, then, 
she has the 'divine right.’ Was she not born queen of 
this household ? Is she not the queen of hearts — the 
queen of our hearts — at least, the queen of some of 
them? Well,” he continued, using a little Latin which 
he had found in one of his books, "as Flora is queen de 
jure and de facto, I submit to her sovereign pleasure.” 

More than one person listened eagerly to this strange 
speech and endeavored to find its meaning. 

What was Mr. Branley thinking, saying, and doing, as 
the evening passed away ? He worked pretty steadily ; 
he spoke frequently to the persons who sat near ; but he 
did not often join in the laughter. He was, in fact, some- 
what reserved and sober, as was perhaps proper for a 
stranger, and especially for the President of the log col- 
lege. Meanwhile Branley looked around, watched and 
listened sharply, and had many reflections. Was he 
pleased with Flora Calvert? Yes, decidedly. Neat in 
dress, graceful in form, comely in features, and refined 
in manners, she stood or walked before him as a very 
interesting creature. He felt sure that this girl, usually 
so quiet and thoughtful, but never dull, and always so 


A PARTY. 


43 


modest, though not timid or bashful, had a very bright 
intellect, — one that fitted her for study, for conversation, 
for repartee, for business, for everything. And he be- 
lieved, if he did not feel quite sure, that she had a sweet, 
cheerful, happy temper, which would, with her other 
good qualities, make her a delightful companion, and fit 
her for woman’s highest and best sphere, — the sphere of 
home. Did Mr. Branley make any special discoveries? 
He was sure that he made one ; he was not sure that he 
made any more. He made the discovery that Flora Cal- 
vert had more than one lover. He now felt certain that, 
counting himself as one, she had at least two. Whether 
she had a third was a point undecided in his mind. Tom 
McConnell was one of the party. He was a young man 
of good appearance ; and he was a young man of good 
habits. He was temperate, industrious, honest, kind, and 
affectionate. If not greatly admired, he was generally 
respected and liked. No one, perhaps, ever spoke a word 
intentionally to injure him, although some people may 
have casually hinted that he was not the brightest youth 
in the world. Mr. Branley, looking at Tom and listening 
to his conversation, came to the conclusion that, whether 
endowed with mental force or not, he was an honest, 
worthy young man. Besides, watching Tom’s eyes, 
noticing the variations in the color of his face, hearing his 
stammering words, seeing his embarrassments, he saw 
enough and heard enough to make it absolutely certain 
that this young man’s thoughts and affections were de- 
voted to Flora Calvert. But Branley did not feel angry. 
He scarcely felt a pang of jealousy, a passion so common 
and so intolerable. He felt resigned to destiny. How- 
ever, he felt a great pity for somebody, — a pity, perhaps, 
divided between himself and Tom ; for he was sure that 
one or the other, if not both, would be compelled, at a 
future time, to bear a great sorrow. Meanwhile Branley 


44 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


watched another man, — Henry Stafford. He ascertained 
that Stafford was the noble-looking young man who stood 
up at church beside the old leader, and whose strong, 
melodious voice contributed so much to the music of the 
sanctuary. The undecided point in Branley’s mind was, 
whether this splendid fellow ” did not also love Flora 
Calvert. And this point was a cause of thought and 
anxiety for many a day. As for Miss Flora, she was 
respectful and kind to all the young men, and had, ap- 
parently, no special regard for any. 

Work must end; pleasure must end; all things must 
end. The young people who had assembled at Mrs. 
Calvert’s finished their work, partook of refreshments, had 
their customary plays, — possibly a dance, — separated, and 
went home. Some of them, it may be presumed, had 
pleasant thoughts and pleasant dreams. 


CHAPTER VH. 

WINTER ITS EMPLOYMENTS AND ITS PLEASURES. 

Winter came ; ice formed on Konnealitt Lake ; snow 
covered the fields. Hunters put their guns in order, and 
walked into the woods. Men fed their cattle, provided 
fuel, cut timber, hauled logs to the saw-mills, and made 
whiskey. Women, besides attending to their more ordi- 
nary work, did much spinning and knitting. Children 
went to school. 

Many people were not pressed with business. Old 
people sat contentedly by the fireplace. However, the 
irrepressible young folks looked eagerly around, not in- 
deed for work, but for amusement. They were not dis- 


WINTER EMPLOYMENTS. 


45 


appointed. They had their sleighing parties, their skating 
parties, perhaps now and then a dance, and very often a 
sinorino^-school. 

Sometimes, as has been noticed, the young people were 
able to combine work and pleasure. Those two objects 
were united at the " apple-bee,” and the ” quilting and 
chopping.” Those objects were united at the ” scutch- 
ing,” the young people gladly performing the work for the 
sake of its accompaniment. 

The " scutching-frolic ” was a picturesque affair. The 
young people gathered at the appointed place in their 
coarsest apparel. Each carried a scutching-knife, or 
swingle. The young men planted "stocks” — usually 
oak clapboards sharpened at one end — in the barn-yard, 
or in sheds and stables. It happened that the stocks com- 
monly stood in pairs ; and it happened that a young man, 
having provided or chosen a pair, stood at one of them, 
while a young woman stood at the other. The young 
people began their work with life and energy, made chaff 
and dust fly, and soon appeared in grotesque outside gar- 
ments. Did work, or cold, or anything, repress their 
joyousness, their jokes, and their laughter? No. Did 
the new vesture of tow hide the symmetry and beauty of 
their forms? No. Did the dust conceal the flush on 
their faces or dim the lustre of their eyes ? No. When 
Cupid frisked about, seeking an entrance into a youth’s or 
maiden’s heart, was he 'caught, entangled, and held, by the 
flaxen fibres, and completely baffled in his purpose? No. 
He entered without trouble or delay, and made a little 
unseen world that was full of sunshine, warmth, and 
delight. 

The first singing-school of the season was held in a 
school-house, two or three miles from the lake. The 
house was completely filled with young, healthy, bloom- 
ing humanity. The girls, as was customary, sat around 


46 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


next the walls on the high seats, and, of course, were 
favorably situated, if they wished to be seen or heard. 
The young men and the boys crowded into the middle 
space. The teacher, compelled to stand in one little spot, 
could scarcely make the usual sweeps of the arm in keep- 
ing time ; and he could not at all advance from the 
" bass ” to the ” tenor,” and from the tenor to the " treble,” 
in order to give the requisite aid to the several parts. 

The teacher on this occasion was Mr. Compton. He 
was the elderly gentleman who led the singing at church. 
Mr. Compton had taught music for many years, and had 
probably rendered a good service to the public. It is true 
that the teachers who followed Mr. Compton declared that 
he had done more harm than good. But this fact proved 
nothing : the new teacher, almost as a matter of course, 
condemns the old teacher, with his rules, modes of teach- 
ing, and practice. When Mr. Compton was at church, 
and engaged in singing an old psalm, he presented a most 
serious and impressive aspect. He made a different ap- 
pearance at the singing-school. Sitting or standing 
amidst a crowd of young people, he was genial, even 
light, sometimes almost boyish. He delighted in music ; 
and the most lively airs were not disagreeable. He also 
delighted in the society of young people. He took great 
pleasure in bringing young folks together, giving them an 
opportunity to become acquainted and to "fall in love.” 
He often declared — even boasted — that he had never 
taught a school which had not been speedily followed by 
at least one wedding. And, doubtless, at this time, when 
Mr. Compton surveyed the blooming young women and 
the lively young men, and heard, during intermission, un- 
ceasing prattle and laughter, he felt that his school had an 
auspicious beginning, or one promising the usual results. 

The young people of the country sung heartily when 
they did sing ; but hearty singing made them weary, and 


WINTER EM PL O YMENTS. 


47 


they soon needed rest. The kind teacher, therefore, 
always gave an ” intermission.” Not a few young persons 
regarded the intermission as by far the pleasantest part of 
the evening. Well, on this occasion the interval and rest 
came as was expected, and the young people certainly 
improved their opportunities. The young ladies did not 
leave their seats ; they knew very well that the young 
gentlemen would leave theirs. There sat Jenny the 
blonde ; there sat Sarah the brunette ; there sat Caroline 
the stately ; there sat Flora the i)eautiful ; and there sat 
many others, who had the vivacity of youth, if nothing 
more. Their bonnets had been removed ; and their hair, 
which had evidently been put up with a special regard for 
effect, displayed a great variety of graceful styles. Many 
of the girls wore barred-flannel dresses ; some wore calico ; 
others may have worn bombazine ; perhaps a few wore 
linsey-woolsey. All appeared to be in health ; many had 
rosy cheeks ; some were decidedly handsome ; two or 
three looked like queens or ladies of high rank. Every 
face was wreathed in smiles ; every heart fluttered with 
expectation. While the ladies retained their seats, the 
gentlemen, as was expected, left theirs, pressed and 
struggled, and, as soon as possible, arranged themselves, 
respectively, before their favorite girls, with whom they 
engaged in lively conversation. The confusion and uproar 
of Babel and Bedlam combined, aided by the noise of fifty 
nurseries, could hardly have surpassed the confusion and 
uproar of the time. 

Tom McConnell and Charley Calvert met in the crowd, 
and Tom had something to say : 

" Charley, do you think there is another neighborhood 
which can show as many fine girls as ours can ? Look at 
them ! Are they not magnificent ? ” 

"They look well, Tom,” said Charley. "We may be, 
and I believe we are, very proud of them.” 


48 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Tom was seldom jocose, and probably he was, at this 
time, far more than half serious. He caught Charley’s 
hand, and continued his somewhat surprising talk. 

" Charley, I want to make a bargain with you. Let us 
exchange sisters. Is it not a grand idea? Can we not 
trade even f Look at the girls, sitting side by side. 
Both are superb. Flora, we all know, is a beauty ; but 
is not Caroline a beauty, too? I can assure you that she 
is good. What do you say, Charley?” 

Charley had never heard such a rhapsody from Tom 
McConnell. He was slightly puzzled, but was ready to 
carry on the joke, or whatever it might prove to be. 

"Tom, your proposal is most acceptable,” Charley re- 
plied. "Nothing would please me better than to exchange 
Flora for Caroline. And I think no boot need be asked 
or given on either side. But, Tom, I think that, before 
we close the bargain, we should consult the girls. Possi- 
bly, one, or the other, or both, would object to our 
arrangement. Let us see them.” 

Tom assented, and the two young men stood before 
Flora and Caroline. Charley .was the speaker. 

"Ladies, — I mean Flora and Caroline, — please give 
us your attention. We have come on most important 
business. Tom and I have been making a bargain ; it is 
not yet completed ; we await your decision, — approval or 
disapproval. The bargain is, or is to be, this ; I give 
Flora to Torn, and Tom gives Caroline to me. If you 
approve the targain, we shall be happy. If you disap- 
prove — why, we must submit to fate. Ladies, what is 
your decision ? ” 

At first the girls were evidently a little surprised and 
bewildered ; but they soon recovered their calmness and 
power of thought, and Flora made a reply : 

" Oh, why in such haste ? Give us time to think. It is 
most important business, as you say. Why, you have 


WINTER EMPLOYMENTS. 


49 


been thinking about this for six years, and we have never 
thought of it at all. Give us time.” 

How much time do you want ? ” inquired Charley. 

"About as much as you have had,” said Flora, — "that 
is, about six years.” 

"How much time do you want, Caroline?” 

"About six years,” the girl replied. 

" Tom,” exclaimed Charley, "these young ladies do not 
know what would be a good bargain — good for them- 
selves as well as for us. Let us leave them to their 
folly.” 

Sir. Branley was present. He contributed nothing to 
the confusion and noise, and very little to the music. 
But he was observant. He watched the young men in 
their various movements, and indulged in some specula- 
tion in regard to their prospects. Besides, he looked at 
the girls, esjjecially those whose names have been given, 
and who were his own scholars. He noted characteristics, 
as he had often done before. Jane overflowed with life 
and merriment. Sarah was comparatively sober and quiet. 
Caroline had not much to say, but, sitting erect, she lis- 
tened to the prattle of the girls and the compliments of the 
young men, and seemed to be happy. Flora was cheerful 
and sociable, but not light and hilarious, like Jane and 
some others. Branley thought he could see imperfections 
in all except one : Flora seemed to be faultless. 

A " singing,” as it was usually called, was held, the 
following week, in a private house. Mr. Branley was 
present ; and he expected that a singing held in a private 
house, the young folks sitting on Windsor chairs in a nice 
room, and elderly persons being present as listeners or 
spectators, would be a very quiet and decorous affair. He 
was destined to meet a pretty sore disappointment. How- 
ever, the disappointment was not caused by the teacher or 
his scholars. The disappointment was caused by an in- 


50 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


truder. When, and where, has there been a neighbor- 
hood that did not contain a ruffian? Where is there a 
large community, even in this advanced age, that does 
not contain such a personage, and suffer from his brutal- 
ity? It is certain that a ruffian lived a few miles from 
Konneautt Lake ; and, unfortunately, he had resolved to 
attend the singing-school. The teacher performed his 
duties in an unexceptionable manner. The singers con- 
ducted themselves with entire propriety. Old people sat, 
looked around, listened to the music, and seemed to have 
much satisfaction. What happened? The ruffian en- 
tered, accompanied by a huge dog. The man looked 
very stout and very surly. The dog looked very big and 
very ferocious. The man sat down, and was quiet, though 
his face exhibited a terrible scowl. But the dog run 
around, run everywhere, and acted as if he had come into 
full possession of the house and all its contents. The 
teacher and his scholars attempted to sing, but were con- 
fused and balked by the dog, which run, jumped, and 
plunged, hither and thither. The attention of every one 
was necessarily turned to the brute, and singing was vir- 
tually abandoned, for a time, as an impracticable business. 
The ruffian made no attempt to expel the dog or keep him 
quiet ; but he closely watched the dog and the people. 
As the lady of the house remarked afterwards, "He just 
sat and glowered.” He probably expected that an assault 
would be made upon his companion, and kept himself in 
readiness for a battle. The teacher said nothing, perhaps 
waiting for the owner of the house to make a movement. 
The young men knew the ruffian, and appeared to be 
afraid of him. Mr. Branley did not know the man, or 
did not fear him, or felt that the nuisance was insufferable, 
and must be removed at every hazard. He prepared him- 
self, watched for an opportunity, and, as the dog passed, 
called into sudden use all the power of his muscles, and 


BIT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 


51 


applied his boots to the ribs of the monster, sending him 
out of the chamber howling with pain. The ruffian in- 
stantly sprang to his feet, dashed his coat on the floor, 
and made a rush towards Branley. The women shrieked, 
the men shouted, utter confusion and uproar filled the 
house. Branley eluded the ruffian’s attempt to grasp liim. 
The young men, now effectually aroused, and moved by 
one impulse, seized the furious man, and compelled him 
to take a seat and be still. 

When order was restored, the school resumed its exer- 
cises. Meanwhile the young people whispered among 
themselves, "The schoolmaster has courage as well as 
talents and scholarship.” But Mr. Branley did not feel 
very comfortable. The ruffian was present, and Flora 
wus absent. The young man did not hear the praise 
which was bestowed upon him ; he came almost to the 
conclusion that he would not attend another singing- 
school. 


CHAPTER YIII. 

A BIT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 

However, Mr. Branley did not intend to be deprived 
of recreation and social enjoyments ; and, happily, apart 
from singing-schools, young people had, now and then, 
an opportunity to secure pleasant exercise and gratify 
their social nature. Mrs. Bayne invited liim to a party. 
He was not acquainted with this lady, but he had seen 
Mr. Bayne at the school-meeting, and regarded him as a 
gentleman. Mr. Branley resolved to accept the invita- 
tion. 

Mr. Bayne had come to the settlement at a very early 


52 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


day. He was finely educated; he was gentlemanly in his 
manners ; he had a considerable amount of money ; and 
he had what was regarded, at the time, as the best of 
trades. He purchased lots in the new town and a ti-act 
of land in the vicinity, and began to build a tannery. He 
boarded with the Stevensons, who lived a mile or two 
from the lake. 

Unfortunately, Mr. Bayne had a serious fault, — lie 
would not work. He was young, handsome, intelligent, 
polite, rich ; but he was the laziest man in the settlement, 
and, possibly, the laziest man in the world. He never 
finished his tan-house, though he expended on it a 
large sum of money ; he never finished a vat, though 
he had begun three or four ; he never finished a piece of 
leather, though he received many hides, and was daily 
importuned for finished work. While Mr. Bayne had 
money, and could hire mechanics and other laborers, 
there was a slight advance in his improvements. Some- 
times a fioor was laid, or a window was provided with a 
sash. He attempted to clear and fence his lots ; but logs 
and brush remained in some of the corners, and his fences 
were so crooked and tottering that they drew the notice 
and ridicule of all the boys in the neighborhood. Mr. 
Bayne sometimes planted corn and potatoes ; but he seldom 
cultivated his growing crops, and he seldom gathered 
anything in autumn. He had a small meadow ; but the 
grass, even when cut and dried, usually lay exposed to 
the w^eather till the approach of winter. Once, by giving 
his last dollar for help, he was able to cut his grass, cure 
it, -pile it on a wagon, and haul it to his stable. Mr. 
Bayne, aided by his hired man, had performed an ex- 
traordinary amount of labor, and he could not persuade 
himself, or be persuaded, to attempt anything more with- 
out an adequate rest. The wagon was left unloaded. It 
stood unloaded during the night. It stood unloaded 


BIT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 


53 


through the following day. It stood unloaded for two 
weeks. One night some boys, moved, it was said, by 
pity for the wagon, upset it, and threw the hay into the 
muddy road. 

In the course of time Mr. Bayne began to think that 
he needed a wife. But how could he get one? That, in 
fact, was the problem which disturbed his mind as far as 
it could be disturbed at all. He could not possibly travel 
to his old home, a hundred miles away, in order to marry 
an acquaintance of his early days. He could not even 
explore the new settlement in order to find a companion. 
Indeed, to lay a plan and pursue it steadily was some- 
thing quite beyond his abilities. What could a man do 
when he was unable to do anything? Well, there were 
two unmarried women at hand, — Sally and Peggy Ste- 
venson. These ladies were not attractive in person or 
manners, but they were famous as good housekeepers. 
Peggy, the younger sister, was not positively ugly, nor 
was she objectionable on account of age. She was lively 
and energetic. In fact, she was entirely willing to relieve 
Mr. Bayne of the effort and trouble usually connected 
with courtsliip. And so Mr. Bayne, submitting to what 
appeared to be destiny, or, rather, accepting the good for- 
tune so generously oflfered him, agreed to marry Peggy 
Stevenson. However, to make an engagement and to 
fulfill an engagement, as events proved, were two differ- 
ent things. Mr. Bayne, with important help, was equal 
to the first, but he was not equal to the other. Unan- 
swerable questions met and confounded him. How could 
he provide a new coat ? How could he go for the minis- 
ter? How could he build a house, or turn his tan-house 
into a suitable dwelling? He was helpless, and Peggy 
could not give the aid which he needed. She had done 
much, and was willing to do more ; but she could not do 
everything. She had courted Mr. Bayne, and secured 


o4 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


his consent to enter into married life ; she had che<^ ed 
and encouraged him every day ; and, as she was stout 
and resolute, she might have built him a house ; but she 
could not make or buy a wedding-coat ; she could not 
very well engage the minister or squire ; and she could not 
at all set Mr. Bayne on his feet, compel him to listen to 
the words of the marriage ceremony, and to say, ” I do.’’ 
The wedding was postponed from time to time. At 
length poor Peggy, wearied with long waiting, perhaps 
losing all hope, perhaps becoming indignant and revenge- 
ful, suddenly changed her mind, and married another 
man. 

Mr. Bayne lived a bachelor, and he still boarded with 
the Stevensons. How did he employ himself? He left 
Stevenson’s every morning at about nine o’clock, walked to 
his tannery, went up-stairs and entered an unfinished 
roopa, sat down, read a newspaper which his father had 
sent, then dozed, or thought about ” what might happen,” 
until about four o’clock in the afternoon, and then, arousing 
himself, he returned to his boarding-house. Day after 
day, month after month, year after year, Mr. Bayne pur- 
sued and endured this monotonous and dreary kind of 
life. But he was not destined to pursue it forever. 

When Mr. Bayne was about forty-five years old. Miss 
Percy came to Evansburgh, to live with her sister, the 
doctor’s wife. This lady was about thirty. She was a 
large, stately woman, with a very fair complexion and 
rather comely features. Miss Percy had several rieh 
dresses, which, however, were somewhat antique in style. 
Sometimes, arrayed in glossy silk, this lady walked 
abroad, and made a sensation. She seemed to have 
everything a lady needed exeept money and sense. 

In one of her walks, or visits. Miss Percy met Mr. 
Bayne. She saw that he was lonely, and in need of sym- 
pathy. Besides, in one of her excursions, she happened 


BTT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 


55 


to notice Mr. Bayne’s house, — a large, unfinished struct- 
ure, standing in a suburb of the town. Externally the 
house looked rather shabby, but she fancied that the inte- 
rior might be, not only finished, but very fine, and entirely 
fit for a lady. She concluded that the house just needed 
a housekeeper to keep it in order. Then Miss Percy 
indulged in a series of reflections in regard to herself. 
She was not, certainly, provided with a permanent and 
comfortable home. She could not pay for her boarding, 
for she had no money, and she did not know how to work. 
The doctor, whose practice was not very large and lucra- 
tive, might become wearied with his burdens, and begin 
to complain. Besides, her sister, the doctor’s wife, had 
not a very sweet temper, and no one could tell what 
might happen. She remembered that bickering had 
already occurred between them ; that, one day, she pom’ed’ 
cold water in the tea, and received a sharp reprimand 
from her sister ; that she would have left the house, never 
to return, if there had been a place to receive her. In 
fact, she very much needed a home. Such were Miss 
Percy’s reflections. What was the result? She married 
Mr. Bayne. 

The people of Evansburgh and vicinity had a surprise. 
They heard that Mr. Bayne had taken a wife, or, rather, 
that Miss Percy had taken a husband. The first Sabbath 
that followed the wedding brought another sensation. 
The newly-married pair made their appearance in public. 
There was service in the church ; and Mr. Bayne, stimu- 
lated by his new-born happiness, or aided by his energetic 
bride, was able to dress and reach the church a few min- 
utes before the close of the sermon. Late attendance 
gave the married pair a certain advantage : everybody was 
there ; everybody was ready to look. Mr. Bayne and his 
bride entered the large door arm-in-arm, swept forward 
in majestic style, and seated themselves on a bench, near 


56 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


the middle of the house. Of course, every person looked 
at the bridegroom and bride. Their dress was highly 
picturesque. The bride, who made by far the finer display, 
was dressed in changeable silk, with plaits and flounces, 
bows and buttons. Her head-gear was particularly grand 
and imposing. However, every part of her dress, except 
the veil, looked somewhat ancient. The weather being 
warm, Mr. Bayne had put on summer garments. His 
coat was light in color, light in weight, small in size, — 
too small to look well, and quite too small to be com- 
fortable ; its age was unknown to the public. He wore 
nankeen pantaloons ; the fit was very remarkable. Peo- 
ple, judging by their scanty length and breadth, suspected 
that his mother had made them in the days of his boyhood. 
He wore a pair of shoes, three or four years old, made of 
material supplied by himself, — that is, of hide which had 
been soaked awhile in water, the material having been 
put into shape by the hands of old Mr. Stevenson. The 
groom and bride, sitting on a bench, without any support 
for the back, could not have felt entirely at ease. How- 
ever, they had the pleasure of being seen, and perhaps 
admired, by a large congregation, and their stay was 
short. 

Mr. Bayne and his wife had now lived together about 
twelve years. They had two girls, both old enough to 
attend school. Mrs. Bayne spent her nights, or portions 
of them, in the upper story of the old, shabby tan-house ; 
she spent her days, or very many of them, visiting her 
neighbors, drinking tea, and talking insufierable nonsense. 
Mr. Bayne, except when driven out by some dire neces- 
sity, stayed in his old tan-house day and night. In the 
course of every two or three months Mrs. Bayne made a 
party, and invited, as she said, only the nice young peo- 
ple of the community ; and, just now, she had a party on 
hand, and the elite were to be present. 


BIT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 


57 


The evening of Mrs. Bayne’s party proved to be very 
wet. The rain fell in torrents and flooded the ground. 
Mr. Branley felt discouraged : he was afraid that the ladies 
could not attend the party, or, to state the truth distinctly, 
he was afraid that Flora Calvert would not be present. 
He saw Miss Flora almost every day, and never saw her 
without experiencing much pleasure. But when he met 
her at a party, and saw her in her best attire, wearing her 
white embroidered cape, and having her hair put up in a 
new and ornamental style, he was conscious of fresh and 
intensified delight, — a delight which he eagerly sought, 
again and again. Besides, meeting Flora in general 
society, he could, for a time, discard some of the teacher’s 
reserve and dignity, cultivate acquaintance, and enjoy, 
without violating any rules, the witchery of her smile and 
the charms of her conversation. 

Despondent and unhappy as he was, Branley stepped 
out, bore the falling rain, waded through mud and water, 
reached the tannery, knocked at the upper door, and was 
admitted by one of the girls. He was surprised. Every- 
thing, in the house and around the house, was shabby and 
repulsive ; the old ruined shop was underneath ; vats, now 
simply pools of filthy water, were near the walls. The 
old tannery was a large structure, but the part used as a 
dwelling was small, comprising, Mr. Branley thought, 
just two apartments, one being a small bedroom, and the 
other being, at once, a bedroom, kitchen, dining-room, 
and parlor. The furniture of the larger room was old, 
broken, and unsightly ; some of the chairs had no backs ; 
the table was deprived of a leaf ; the drawers of the bureau 
and cupboard had lost their handles. There were window- 
curtains and bed-curtains, but they were old, faded, and 
torn, and greatly needing a bath ; there were ornaments 
on the mantel and bureau, but they looked like the anti- 
quated toys of children ; there was a broom, but it was 


58 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


SO worn as to be incapable of raising a dust. The house 
was not clean ; the air was not pure and sweet ; nothing 
was in order ; nothing was pleasant ; scarcely anything 
was even tolerable. Yet Mrs. Bayne assumed to be a 
fine lady, sitting erect, or moving about grandly in her 
flowing robes, and talking eloquently about the genteel 
people who were to grace her party. 

Another guest arrived. The new guest was Henry 
Stafford. Mrs. Bayne was elated beyond measure, and 
welcomed him in grandiloquent phrases. If Mr. Court- 
ney, Miss Bostwick, and Miss Calvert, had come, in 
addition to the merchant and teacher already present,, 
her happiness would have been complete. Mr. StaflTord 
joked and laughed, as he was accustomed to do on all 
occasions except the most serious ones. No more guests 
appeared ; and Stafford, having chatted gayly for fifteen or 
twenty minutes, turned to Mrs. Bayne, and remarked, 

” We cannot expect the ladies to-night. They cannot 
get here ; and, without them, we can do nothing, enjoy 
nothing, be nothing. The ladies are, not only the orna- 
ment, but the indispensable part, of creation. What 
would this good man be, and how could he live, Mrs. 
Bayne, if you were not here ? The ladies may get along 
without the gentlemen, but the gentlemen cannot get 
along without the ladies. Therefore, I suggest that you 
postpone your party till Tuesday evening of next week. 
We are, indeed, profoundly sorry that you are not able 
to carry out your generous purpose. We appreciate your 
parties ; they are an unfailing source of pleasure and 
profit. When you give a party we rejoice ; when, as we 
must now, miss a party, we mourn ; but we must submit 
to necessity ; we cannot rule the weather, dry up the 
roads, and make a pleasant evening. Therefore, Mrs. 
Bayne, postpone your party.” 

This was extravagant language, and, further, it was 


BIT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 


59 


gross flattery ; and Stafford may have thought that words 
so extravagant, and flattery so gross and palpable, could 
mislead no one and do no harm. Yet Mrs. Bayne, ap- 
parently, accepted the extravagant words as the sincere 
expression of regard for women in general, and for herself 
in particular. She postponed the party in accordance 
with Stafford’s suggestion. 

Stafford and Branley walked back together. They 
were silent at first. Branley was not entirely pleased 
with Stafford’s conduct. He had laughed at Stafford’s 
jokes ; but he had listened to the flattery, and had ob- 
served that, whatever may have been designed, the flattery 
really misled and injured Mrs. Bayne, strengthening her 
vanity and exciting most absurd expectations. Branley’s 
dissatisfaction was rather increased by what he presently 
heard. 

" Will you attend the party ? ” Mr. Branley inquired. 

"No,” the other said, firmly. 

"Why not?” 

" Oh, I never attend Mrs. Bayne’s parties. She is a 
great f — 1, a perfect compound of vanity and silliness. I 
was wearied with work in the counting-room, and needed 
some recreation. I happened to think of Mrs. Bayne’s 
party, and came for a little fun. I will not be at the party 
next week.” 

" But you virtually promised to attend,” said Branley. 

" Well,” replied Stafford, "I can send an apology for 
absence ; she will accept it, and all will be right.” 

"But that would be deception again, would it not?” 

"The fact is, Mr. Branley, it will make no difference 
whether an apology is sent or not. What I do everybody 
approves. Then Mrs. Bayne cannot be offended. If I 
were to abuse her by words or deeds, she would smile and 
be happy. She would take anything from me as a favor.” 

Branley felt confounded. "What sort of people have I 


60 


KONNEAU'i'T LAKE. 


seen tliis evening ? ” lie inquired in his own mind. ” What 
sort of a man is this Stafford? I like him, and I don’t 
like him. He is very smart, and he is very funny ; but 
then, how lordly, boastful, and reckless he is, or seems to 
be, sometimes ! People say that he has been admitted 
into the highest circles. Has he acquired some of the 
deceit practiced in high life ? He has talents enough for 
anything. He is very generous, giving money and ser- 
vice freely for the benefit of the public or the relief of the 
poor. He is certainly very popular. But what he will 
do, and what he will be, is not apparent.” 

A week passed away. Meanwhile Branley learned 
much respecting the Bayne family. He learned that Mr. 
Bayne was very nearly a nonentity in the family and in 
the community. He learned that Mrs. Bayne was a gad- 
der and a gossip ; that she neglected her house and fam- 
ily ; that she left home almost every morning, stayed 
among her neighbors all day, sipping tea and retailing 
scandal, returned home late in the evening, and boxed Mr. 
Bayne’s ears when he grumbled too loudly or too long. 

Stafford observed Branley passing the door of his count- 
ing-room, and, calling him, remarked, 

” This is a beautiful evening for the party, — no rain, no 
mud. The girls can attend, if they wish to do so. Do 
you intend to go, Mr. Branley?” 

"I believe I shall not be there,” he replied. 

” Well, you are just sensible. Not a girl will be there. 
If you should go you would see nobody ; nor would you 
get a morsel to eat, unless Mrs. Bayne has been successful 
in begging. She has sent her little girl all around, — to 
one place for flour, to another place for butter, to a third 
place for eggs ; and the little girl has been here, asking 
for tea and sugar on trust. ’ You will soon agree with me 
that Mrs. Bayne is good for nothing, unless it be to give 
us a little amusement,” 


BIT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 


61 


Mr. Branley did not go to the party. And he soon 
learned that no person went. Meanwhile he acquired 
more information in respect to the Bayne family. Pie 
learned, among other things, the particulars of a singular 
fight which had occurred between Bayne and his wife. 
The fight, as it was described to him, appeared so exceed- 
ingly ludicrous, that he thought about it, and hardly any- 
thing else, for several days and nights. The idea that 
Mrs. Bayne deserved ridicule, and not pity, seized and 
held him. Perhaps, too, the idea that ridicule could 
amuse the world, and even effect great reforms, entered 
his mind and influenced his conduct. However this may 
be, it is certain that ]Mr. Branley wrote a ballad, and read 
it to a few persons, Stafford being one of them. The bal- 
lad is subjoined, as a specimen of literary work in the 
early times, and as a true description of a remarkable 
scene. It may be premised that the writer applied to 
^Irs. Bayne a name and title by which she was known in 
the neighborhood. 

LADY HOPEFUL BELDAM. 

A lady, with a stylish name, 

Dwells in our little city ; 

And she has ever-growing fame, 

Though neither good or witty. 

She has a husband, as is right, — 

A house with much adorning, 

* In which, when she returns at night, 

She tarries till the morning ; 

Then sails abroad, as she may choose, 

As fine as art can make her. 

Just ready for Old Nick to use. 

If he should please to take her. 

But here occurred a sad afiair, 

As is, indeed, so common 

Wherever live a wedded pair, — 

That is, a man and woman. 


62 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


One day there came a certain boy 
Old idle Kate to borrow, 

When he, the simile of joy. 

Produced a world of sorrow. 

The man was neighborly and kind. 

And kind was his decision ; 

The woman had another mind, 

And, lo ! a dire collision. 

For, as he stepped beyond his door, — 
An act he does but seldom, — 

He saw his lady rush before, — 

The Lady Hopeful Beldam. 

And then he stood with puzzled face,. 

For saddle, bridle, trimming, 

So strangely bounded from their place, 
And sought a pool for swimming. 

But, still, with ease he bridled Kate, 

And had the silly notion 
That he could lead her through the gate, 
Yet cause no fresh explosion. 

He tried, but lost the joys of life. 

This stupid act committfng ; 

In vain he stammered, “ Wife, O wife I ” 
Vain, gasping, coughing, spitting. 

For madam, seeing his intent. 

Secured a proper station. 

And, as he through the portal went. 
Began an operation. 

Nor did she cease to pant and pound 
Till he had half repented, 

As cheek and chin, and parts around. 
Grew sorely discontented. 

In fact, she took uncommon pains ; 

Her blows were hard and many. 

And would have mollified his brains, 

Had fate allowed him any. 

Thus she defended woman’s right 
To have her own opinion, — 


BIT OF PERSONAL HISTORY. 


63 


To talk and argue, scold and fight, . 

And exercise dominion. 

And yet, he set the lad astride, — 

This man with courage topful ; 

But, as the boy' began his ride. 

Again came Lady Hopeful ; 

And just as soon as she was there. 

Old Katy lost her bridle ; 

The .boy, retreating from the mare, 

Gave her a chance to idle. 

Now, gentle mister, by-the-by, 

W as guilty of a blunder ; 

For, lo ! his fist was lifted high, 

Then fell on what was under ; 

And, oh, it struck, — he was so blind, — 
It struck his lady’s shoulder, — 

Struck hard and fast, as if designed 
In other form to mould her. 

Some of the neighbors lightly say 
She seemed as brisk as ever, — 

That, even in her youthful day. 

She danced as finely never. 

But others solemnly declare. 

The energetic mauling. 

The writhing, shrieks, and whole affair, 
Were tragic and appalling. 

And, lo ! they raised so hot a breeze, 
While this commotion lasted. 

That (so they tell) surrounding trees 
Had bloom and verdure blasted. 

But passion cooled and languor grew. 
And fighting lost its pleasure. 

And so the pair retired from view, 
Kepenting at their leisure. 


When Stafford had heard the ballad read, he ex- 
claimed, 

" Why, Branley, you agree with me already, and your 


64 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


ridicule is quite as lavish as mine. But, my dear sir, take 
a little care. You may not be able to do things with im- 
punity as I can. If Mr. and Mrs. Bayne should see these 
verses, they would make peace at home, unite their forces, 
and furiously attack the common foe.” 

Mr. Branley was affrightened. He saw that he was 
imperiling his character and position as a teacher. He 
resolved to destroy or conceal his ballad. 


CHAPTER IX. 

” BARRING OUT.” 

” Barring out the master ” was a singular custom. It 
must have originated in a remote and semi-barbarian age. 
It prevailed, in some quarters, during a considerable part 
of the present century. When common schools were 
established by law, the strange, barbarous custom dis- 
appeared. 

" Barring out ” occurred on Christmas. Scholars met at 
the school-house early in the morning, ” barred ” the door 
and the long, narrow window, and awaited the arrival of 
the ” master,” as the teacher was called in the early times. 
When scholars reached the school-house at a late hour, 
they were admitted through the window at an aperture 
which could be readily opened and shut. ” Barring out 
the master ” was a business greatly enjoyed by the young 
men and large boys ; and old people have said that it was 
quite as much enjoyed by some of the teachers. 

The master, arriving at the usual time, and pretending 
to be ignorant of the revolutionary movement, attempted 
to open the door. Finding the door fastened and 


BARRING OUT. 


65 


guarded in the inside, he sternly commanded the scholars 
to open it. The scholars, of course, did not heed the 
master’s order ; and war followed, continuing a longer or 
shorter time. The master always failed to effect an 
entrance by force ; and, sooner or later, he signed a 
paper, binding himself to give the scholars a grand treat 
on New Year’s Day. 

When the festive day arrived, the scholars assembled in 
great force, ate apples, drank whiskey, played bail, or 
engaged in other amusements. Commonly, the master 
was present, accepting a share of the apples and whiskey, 
and sometimes participating in the games. 

Well, another Christmas was approaching, and Mr. 
Branley heard reports that disturbed him. 

" They are going to bar you out,” a woman said one 
day. 

Branley made no reply, but he instantly formed some 
resolutions. He resolved that he, would give no counte- 
nance to the old, barbarous custom. He resolved that he 
would, if possible, prevent the contemplated movement in 
his own school. And he resolved that, if he should be 
barred out, he would issue no orders, use no violence, 
sign no paper, and give no treat. 

In fact, the young teacher of Evansburgh resolved to 
make war upon the old, barbarous custom, and destroy it. 
He looked around for help. He learned that Mr. Thomp- 
son had a school, three or four miles distant, on one side 
of the lake, and that Mr. Kerr taught a school, three or 
four miles distant, on another side. He visited these 
teachers, denounced "barring out” as a relic of barbarism, 
and proposed an alliance, offensive and defensive, with 
a view to the extermination of the detestable custom. 
Thompson and Kerr were Irishmen. They had been 
"barred out” many times. However, they professed to 
agree with Branley, and promised to discountenance the 


66 


KONNEAUTT LAKE, 


old custom in their schools and districts respectively. At 
the same time, as these men engaged in the work of 
reform, they seemed to show but little enthusiasm and to 
anticipate but little success. 

As time passed, Branley talked to the citizens and 
endeavored to win them to his views. And one day, as 
he was about to close the school, he addressed the scholars 
as follows : 

" Christmas is near, and I learn that there is some talk 
about barring out the master. Do you not know that 
barring out is a barbarous and absurd custom ? It is not 
simply ridiculous, it is extremely foolish ; it is, in my 
opinion, decidedly injurious, — injurious to both teacher 
and scholars. Look at the custom, see it as it is, and 
judge for yourselves. ' Do you not see that it is wholly 
unbecoming a civilized, Christian people ? Now, I make 
a proposal. If you conduct yourselves properly on 
Christmas, — that is, as you do on other days, I will give 
you a liberal treat on New Year’s Day. I cannot give 
you whiskey, as I never buy or use any ; but I will pro- 
vide an ample quantity of fruit. I like to see young folks 
happy. A view of your innocent mirth and enjoyments 
affords me a great deal of pleasure. Now, I am sure that 
these little boys and girls are fond of apples, and I would 
like to see them with one in each hand and several in their 
pockets or baskets. Apples are scarce ; but I know that 
I can find them, and good ones too. Will you permit me 
to make you happy on New Year’s Day, and to find a 
great deal of pleasure for myself? Consider my proposal, 
and be wise. If you conduct youselves properly on Christ- 
mas, you shall have all the apples you can eat and a long 
time for play. If you conduct yourselves improperly, you 
shall have nothing.” 

The teacher’s kind words had some efiect. Perhaps 
liis positive announcements had more. Christmas came 


BARRING OUT. 


67 


and passed without any war, commotion, or trouble, in 
the Evansburgh school. - Branley was delighted : and, 
with much pleasure, as well as zeal and energy, he began 
to prepare for the promised festival. 

Messrs. Thompson and Kerr had a different experience. 
Both were barred out ; and, while they fulfilled the prom- 
ise made to Mr. Branley, their opposition to the old cus- 
tom was shown in different ways and was accompanied or 
followed by different r-esults. 

Mr. Kerr pursued this course : Arriving at the school- 
house and finding the door fastened, he said, pleasantly, 
” Scholars, show me your paper.” A scholar presented a 
paper, containing -the usual promise. The teacher took 
the paper, promptly wrote his name, returned the paper, 
and then said, " Now, scholars, open the door.” 
The scholars, having no reason for keeping the door 
closed, removed the fastenings and opened it. The 
teacher walked in and said, "Now, scholars, take your 
seats.” The scholars, having no excuse for disobeying 
the order, sat down, and " barring out ” was over. The 
young men and large boys were sorely disappointed and 
vexed : they had missed all the anticipated sport. 

Mr. Thompson reached his school-house at nine o’clock, 
walked up to the door, raised the latch, and gave a push. 
The door refused to move, — in fact, seemed as immovable 
as the walls. Speaking in the sternest manner, he com- 
manded the scholars to open the door. One of the schol- 
ars said, 

" Come round to the window and we’ll talk to you.” 

" Open the door ! open the door ! ” shouted the mas- 
ter. 

A young man replied, "No ; we are not ready yet ; there 
is an item of business which must be attended to first.” 

The master became furious, and kicked the door vio- 
lently, shouting, at one time, " Open the door, or I’ll 


68 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


break every bone in your bodies and, at another time, 
" Open the door, or 111 skin you alive.” 

The little children began to cry. Even some of the 
large girls were affrightened ; but the young men and 
large boys felt that the good time — a time long antici- 
pated — had actually come. Their glee was irrepressible ; 
their enjoyment was intense. 

Mr. Thompson shouted in vain. No one heard or 
heeded him. He thumped and kicked in vain. The 
door seemed to be a part of tne wall, and did not yield 
the breadth of a hair. There was quiet for a minute, and 
then the teacher appeared at the window, uttering terrible 
threats. A scholar presented a paper which read thus : — 

” I promise to give my scholars on New Year’s Day 
three bushels of apples and one gallon of whiskey.” 

He took the paper, tore it into bits, and threw the bits 
on the snow. 

" Youll sign the next one,” the young man said, and 
then sat down to write another. 

The master seized a stick of firewood, assaulted the 
window, and, with a few heavy strokes, not only rent the 
greased paper which had excluded the cold and admitted 
the light, but actually loosened the barriers and made a 
breach. However, looking into the house, and seeing 
fifteen or twenty stout young fellows, some of them armed 
with bludgeons, and all ready for battle, he made no 
attempt to enter. He then climbed up to the roof, and 
endeavored to remove the clapboards, perhaps with the 
hope that he could descend suddenly and unexpectedly 
among the rebels, and be able to reduce them to obedi- 
ence. The plan failed. Then he clambered up the low 
chimney, and made an effort to descend ; but, being 
instantly greeted with fire and smoke, he was forced to 
retire. Quiet reigned everywhere for a few minutes. 

" What is he doing ? ” the scholars asked each other. 


BARRING OUT. 


60 


They listened ; but they heard nothing. A scholar 
looked out, and, lo ! Mr. Thompson was two or three 
hundred yards away, running as if his life was in peril. 
Three or four young men instantly tumbled from the 
window and pursued the runaway. The chase was a hot 
one, the scholars peeping through chinks of the house and 
watching it with the deepest interest. The young men 
were too swift for the old man ; they overtook him, capt- 
ured him, and brought him back by force. One of the 
young men presented a paper, and inquired, 

” Will you sign now ? ” 

”No,” he replied ; "not now, nor at any other time.” 

The young men who had remained in the house opened 
the door, marched out in a body, seized the obstinate 
man, and, aided by the others, forcibly dragged him 
down a hill. They came to a brook, and followed it till 
they found a pool of water three or four feet in depth. 
Stopping, the young men laid their captive on the bank. 
A crowd of boys stood on higher ground, looking and 
listening eagerly. 

"Do you see that water?” the young men inquired, 
addressing the prostrate man. 

" Yes, I see it,” he replied, scornfully. 

"Well, sign the paper or take a cold bath,” the young 
men said, endeavoring to give a strong emphasis to their 
words. "Will you sign? ” 

"No,” the master growled. 

The scholars prepared to plunge him in the icy water ; 
but a boy cried out, 

" Keep his clothes dry, or you will give him a cold.” 

Acting on this timely suggestion, they divested him of 
his coat and waistcoat, and then one presented the paper, 
repeating the old question, 

" Will you sign it ? ” 

"No,” responded the stubborn man. 


70 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Fully resolved to give him a dip in the cold water, the 
young men proceeded to remove another portion of his 
garments, and, lo ! the master suddenly yielded, took the 
paper, and wrote his name. 

The spectators, including those who stood on the higher 
ground, seeing the victory, raised such a shout as could 
hardly be surpassed, even by school-boys, in any part of 
the world. 

Mr. Kerr’s scholars, having had no sport on Christmas, 
appreciated the festival on New Year’s Day. Mr. Kerr 
spent a part of the day at the school-house, partaking of 
the fruit and watching the players. IVIr. Thompson’s 
scholars received the promised treat ; but some of the 
boys, it may be presumed, thought that the feasting and 
playing were tame and insipid matters compared with the 
fun enjoyed on Christmas. Mr. Thompson did not show 
himself on New Year’s Day. Perhaps his recollections 
were not pleasant. He spent the day in a neighboring 
still-house, talking to the distiller about Ireland, and 
comforting himself with draughts of the liquor then 
known as ” rye tea.” 

Mr. Branley’s scholars had a great festival on New 
Year’s Day, and enjoyed it intensely. Apples of the best 
quality, supplemented by pies, cakes, and doughnuts, 
supplied a rich feast. Then there was a long time for 
play. Youth, healthy blood, and good-humor, furnished 
an adequate stimulus, and whiskey was not needed. Mr. 
Branley was present, sharing in the feast, and also in the 
games. His recollections were entirely pleasant. And 
he was cheered with the idea that civilization had made a 
fresh advance. 


PROGRESS. 


71 


CHAPTER X. 

PROGRESS. 

Mr. Branley felt a great interest in his school. He 
made a strong and continuous effort to advance his 
scholars in their respective studies ; and the evidence of 
progress, seen among his scholars generally, gave him 
much satisfaction. But his work and care proved to be 
wearisome and oppressive. The variety of books in the 
school, precluding the formation of classes, caused a vast 
amount of unnecessary labor. The making and mending 
of pens not only employed much time, but was often a 
pretty sore annoyance. Sometimes, when the teacher 
was listening to a recitation in grammar, or solving a 
question in arithmetic, — perhaps his head aching severely 
and his nervous system in a most irritable state, — a scholar 
would come with the request, "Please, sir, mend my 
pen,” giving the poor teacher a shock somewhat similar 
to that produced by an electric battery. The exercise of 
government and discipline in a school so large, and com- 
prising so many adults, was a heavy task. Sometimes 
young men, presuming on the teacher’s youth, were in- 
clined to be a little unruly ; and sometimes the young 
women, presuming on the teacher’s gallantry, were inclined 
to gratify their love of mischief and frolic ; but, as Mr. 
Branley was always resolute and. firm as well as calm and 
gentlemanly, he never encountered any serious trouble. 

The teacher was occasionally annoyed by some of his 
patrons. The people in general were very courteous, 
never interfering with his management, and never uttering 
a complaint. But the district, like all others, contained 


72 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


a few of those wise, active, watchful people, who perceive 
all mistakes, who are never satisfied with anything, and 
who are seldom or never quiet. Then it may be remem- 
bered that Mr. Branley taught at the commencement of 
the " transition period,” or when new theories respecting 
government and discipline began to agitate families, 
schools, and communities. 

It is certain that Mr. Branley was disposed to make ex- 
periments ; and it is certain that his experiments brought 
some trouble. Failing to govern satisfactorily simply by 
” moral suasion,” and unwilling to use the rod, though not 
at all afraid of Bradlock, he tried punishments of different 
kinds. Sometimes he compelled a naughty child to stand 
in a corner or on a bench, or to stay in the house at noon. 
One day, Amy Hunt, a girl eight or ten years old, be- 
haved badly, and was placed on a pile of firewood. She 
was exposed to the gaze of many eyes, and, no doubt, 
felt very uncomfortable. What happened? The child 
went home and complained to her mother ; and the 
teacher, meeting Mrs. Hunt one day, was compelled to 
listen to the following passionate words : 

" Mr. Branley, why did you set Amy on a wood-pile 
and make her a laughing-stock for the whole school? 
What terrible thing did she do, Mr. Branley? I had a 
mind to whip her severely.” 

" She did not do any terrible thing,” the teacher re- 
plied, calmly ; ”but she did something, and received a 
light punishment. She received enough, I think ; she 
does not need any punishment from you, Mrs. Hunt.” 

"I tell you, Mr. Branley,” the woman exclaimed, 
speaking warmly, and making her meaning clear, "you 
must use the rod ; you shan’t set my girl on a wood- 
pile.” 

The teacher walked away from the angry woman. But 
he did not dismiss from his thoughts the matter about 


PROGRESS. 


73 


which they had been speaking. He was troubled. In 
fact, he began to suspect that the woman might be right 
and he himself might be wrong, or that, in punishing a 
child, it would be better to indict physical pain than 
mental suffering. 

It appears that the question which troubled Mr. Bran- 
ley many years ago troubles parents and teachers at the 
present time ; and inquirers are apt to be misled or left 
in darkness. The parent or teacher asks, ” What measures 
shall I employ in government and discipline ? ” A wise 
and advanced thinker replies, ” Use no degrading punish- 
ments.” But while the parent or teacher ponders the 
statement and inquires, ”What punishments are degrad- 
ing and what are not ? ” a reformer and thinker, still more 
advanced, comes forward and says, dogmatically, ”A11 
punishments are degrading ; all produce a sense of hu- 
miliation and disgrace ; all excite wrath and hostility 
rather than promote true humility and real amendment ; 
all, therefore, are injurious ; govern by love and gentle- 
ness.” The inquirer may be more perplexed than before ; 
or he may be carried away by the new philosophy. 
However, the man who studies the Holy Scriptures, and 
accepts their teaching, learns that much of the modern 
philosophy is false. He learns that the Ruler of the 
Universe, while actuated by love, uses punishments ; 
that Divine punishments, inflicted on mankind in the 
present world, may be corporal, or mental, or both ; that 
Divine punishments may, or may not, produce amend- 
ment ; that Divine punishments are designed to deter the 
innocent from transgression as well as to promote the ref- 
ormation of the guilty. And he learns that man, follow- 
ing the Divine example, actuated by the same principle, — 
love, — pursuing the same end, — the cure and prevention of 
wrong, — may, in his own proper sphere, and in a restricted 
way, use punishments, both corporal and mental. The 


74 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


man who has faith in the Bible should not heed the cry, 
" All punishment is degrading ” ; nor should he hesitate, 
in certain emergencies, to use the instrument wliich Solo- 
mon recommends, — the rod. 

Mr. Branley had read a volume or two on the subject 
of physiology. He had read a few scraps in the news- 
papers in regard to gymnastics. Besides, he was ac- 
customed to think for himself about the conditions of 
health and happiness. He now entertained the idea that 
children should breathe the pure air as much as possible, 
enjoy the sunshine, and exercise their limbs and lungs. 
Accordingly, when noon arrived, he encouraged the schol- 
ars to leave the house, engage in play, run, laugh, and 
shout. One day, during the usual interval, a great num- 
ber of scholars were indulging in out-door amusements, 
the large boys playing ” town-ball,” the small boys play- 
ing " corner-ball,” and the girls playing something that 
suited them. Of course, the players made some noise. 
It happened that the teacher was a spectator, taking much 
pleasure in seeing the pleasure of others. And it also 
happened that Mr. Altman, the Dutch member of the 
school committee, rode through town. He passed near 
the school-house ; he saw the scholars at play, the large 
boys at one place, the small boys at another, the girls in 
a quarter of their own, — all engaged, all in a sort of 
frenzy, all shouting, laughing, or screaming ; he saw the 
commotion, heard the uproar, and his soul was stirred 
within him. Then he espied Mr. Branley, and instantly 
resolved to perform a great service. Biding up hastily to 
tlie teacher, he shouted, 

"What dish mean, Mr. Branley? Dese poys and girls 
be yellin’ and whoopin’ like Injuns. Dish won’t do at all 
at all.” 

The teacher offered a slight apology for the noise of the 
scholars, and then walked towards the school-house. The 


PROGRESS. 


75 


angry man rode away, thinking, it may be presumed, that 
he had rendered important aid to the cause of American 
civilization. 

But Mr. Branley committed an offense, — a real, unde- 
niable offense. One morning, as the school was about to 
open, it was reported to the teacher, by several eye- 
witnesses, that Bradlock’s big, stupid boy, Sam, somehow 
getting alive and active, had worried an old, blind, mis- 
erable dog. Branley hated cruelty almost as much as he 
hated anything ; and without reflecting that he occupied 
the position of a teacher, and was addressing scholars, he 
exclaimed, somewhat emphatically, "Sam is a brute 
The unfortunate word was immediately reported to the 
public. And that was not all ; a certain profane word 
was soon prefixed by Madam Rumor, and so Mr. Branley 
stood before the public as a man addicted to " profane 
swearing.” "He is not a proper person to teach,” said 
one. " He should be expelled from the school,” said 
another. The young man felt a keen mortification. He 
had plumed himself on his morality. Pie had often de- 
clared, perhaps boastfully, that he never indulged in pro- 
fane language. But now it was charged that he had used 
a most profane and scandalous word ; and many persons 
believed that the charge was true. Feeling most uncom- 
fortable, Branley took much pains, as he went about 
among the people, to state the exact truth, and admitting 
that he had used a certain harsh word, while positively 
denying that he had used a profane one. What followed? 
Borne persons believed, or pretended to believe, that the 
teacher’s statement virtually admitted the truth of the 
whole charge ; and it was now reported that he had con- 
fessed his guilt ! The teacher’s humiliation was complete. 
But a new feeling rose in his mind. It was anger. He saw, 
or imagined that he saw, a disposition to blast his charac- 
ter and destroy him. His manhood, or human nature. 


76 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


was aroused. He resolved to defend liimself, and even 
make reprisals. But a reaction occurred among the 
people. As Branley was about to declare war against 
all mankind, he discovered that half of the people were on 
his side, and that the other half were coming over rapidly. 
The people had looked at Sam’s conduct and seen its 
enormity. And now they not only believed the teach- 
er’s statement, but excused — nay, justified — his use of a 
certain strong word. Some even went so far as to say, 
tliough not, perhaps, with the approval of the majority, 
that a stronger word — the very word which had been 
attributed to the teacher — was really needed suitably to 
characterize the cruel boy. Talk and commotion ceased.- 
The school continued to be full and prosperous. 

Mr. Branley and his school had a visitor now and then. 
One day a knock was heard, the door was opened, a large, 
{)ortly gentleman walked in, and introduced himself as Mr. 
Moreland. Every person knew that this gentleman was 
President Judge. Branley had not been much in the 
company of lawyers, and he had never spoken to a judge ; 
he, therefore, felt, at first, some affright and embarrass- 
ment. The Judge was extremely polite and atfable ; he 
made inquiries in regard to the progress of the scholars ; 
and, receiving favorable answers, congratulated the teacher 
on the prosperous condition of the school. He sat awhile 
and warmed himself. He rose, looked over the school, 
gave a word of encouragement to the teacher and his 
scholars, bowed courteously, and retired. The teacher 
and his scholars were pleased. Branley felt that he had 
been highly honored by this call. He had a strong sus- 
picion, if not a conviction, that the Judge was seeking 
good material for a lawyer — perhaps for a successor in 
the judgeship. The scholars, having seen a great man, 
had their share of satisfaction. 

At another time, when the door was opened, a tall, 


PROGRESS. 


77 


slender, elderly man walked into the house. He intro- 
duced himself, stating that his name was Cowell, and that 
he was a teacher. Mr. Branley received him courteously. 
This man had taught many schools, and was extensively 
known. He had some eccentricities ; indeed, some people 
thought that he was not perfectly sane ; yet he was un- 
usually successful and popular in his chosen profession. 
Mr. Cowell was commonly regarded as a very learned 
man, and appeared to fill the place of the village school- 
master described by Goldsmith : 

“ And still the wonder grew 
That one small head could carry all he knew.” 

The old gentleman surveyed the school with much in- 
terest. He listened to several recitations ; he glanced at 
the copybooks ; and he said a word or two on the several 
branches of study. At last, complying with Mr. Branley’s 
request, he made a formal speech. It was simply this : — 
”My young friends, this is your good time — your best 
time ; study hard ; resolve to excel in everything ; be in- 
telligent, virtuous, and useful, and you will be happy. 

' Fear God and keep his commandments.’ My dear young 
friends, I bid you farewell.” 

As Mr. Cowell was retiring, he turned, and, looking at 
Mr. Branley, said, "Will you come to the door for a 
minute?” The two men advanced to the door, walked 
out and stopped, Cowell standing on the ground, Branley 
standing on one of the steps. The old gentleman, speak- 
ing in a low voice, remarked, 

" Mr. Branley, you are a fine young man. You have 
talents, which may bring you honor, as well as enable you 
to be useful ; you have ambition, and a proper ambition 
is a very good thing ; you wish to improve as a scholar, 
and I wish to encourage and help you. Just now, I wish 


78 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


to correct your pronunciation of a certain word. Mirage 
is not pronounced as if written miradge, with the accent 
on the first syllable, but as if written merazhe, with the 
accent on the last syllable.” 

”I thank you, Mr. Cov/ell,” the young man said, 
promptly and warmly. ” I wish you would come every 
day and correct my faults.” 

” That cannot be,” Mr. Cowell remarked, wliile a smile 
passed over his wrinkled face. They shook hands, and 
the good old man went on his way. The young teacher 
never forgot Mr. Cowell. 

While advancing his scholars, Mr. Branley improved 
himself. He acquired self-government. He became pro- 
foundly sensible that he must govern himself in order to 
govern others. He was often tried. The odd, comical 
words and actions of little children tried his risible nature 
severely ; the sly pranks and mischief of the larger scholars 
tried his temper. He mastered himself, and was able, in 
the most trying circumstances, to maintain self-possession, 
calmness, and dignity. His daily contact with minds that 
were sharp, inquisitive, and almost as mature as his own, 
improved his faculties. The necessities of his position, 
requiring him to study, to attack and solve all sorts of 
problems in arithmetic, grammar, and the other branches, 
and to listen carefully to the reading of many books, 
added constantly to his intellectual stores. 

But did Mr. Branley make progress in love and court- 
ship? No. Flora Calvert attended school regularly. 
She was quiet ; she was studious ; she always recited 
well ; she caused no trouble whatever ; she was always 
respectful to the teacher, always met him with a beauti- 
ful smile, always spoke to him in a voice that was soft 
and gentle, or, as he thought, very musical and sweet. 
Now, the young man esteemed this girl, admu’ed her, — 
in fact, loved her ; yet he made no advances, no declara- 


PROGRESS. 


79 


tlons , no efforts whatever to engage her attention and win 
Iier heart. He treated her respectfully and kindly ; but 
he did no more. He reasoned thus : " I am young, — 
too young to marry ; why should I try to win a young 
girl’s affections ? I am a stranger here ; why should 1 be 
obtrusive ? Flora is surrounded by old friends ; she 
knows them, and they know her. I am sure that among 
these old acquaintances she has, beside a score of admirers 
and suitors, a real, ardent lover ; he is a good young man, 
and he could give her a pleasant home. Why should I 
interfere? Why should I come between this honest, 
gentle-hearted youth and the girl that he has always 
known and always loved ? ” Eeasoning in this way, Mr. 
Branley deliberately laid a restraint upon his heart, his 
words, and his actions. However, his unselfish and ex- 
traordinary course was ever associated with this reflec- 
tion ; " Still, I love Flora Calvert ; and if Providence 
should remove obstacles, — if, some day, I could rightly 
press my suit, and could win her heart, this dear girl 
should be mine. I must wait and hope.” 

Did Mr. Branley make progress in religion or spiritual 
life ? He certainly did not forget the sermon which he 
had heard in October. The words, ”Come to the living 
water,” — words which had rung in his ears for several 
days and nights, frequently recurred to his mind. Very 
often, indeed, as he looked at the meeting-house, — and 
he saw it everyday, —he almost fancied that he heard 
the old preacher addressing a thirsty, fainting multitude, 
and saying, with intense earnestness, ” Whosoever will, 
let him take of the water of life freely.” Mr. Branley 
habitually read the Holy Bible, endeavoring to learn its 
truths and conform to its precepts ; and, as far as he had 
opportunity, he associated with good people in worship 
and in work. 

An event which had occurred in the early part of the 


80 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


winter was certainly adapted to make the young man 
thoughtful and serious. A literary society held its meet- 
ings on the eastern side of the lake. Branley delighted 
in literary matters,' and one evening, sensible that he 
needed physical exercise, and also some mental change or 
recreation, he resolved to walk over the ice, attend a meet- 
ing of the society, and hear a debate. He went alone. 
The evening was perfectly calm. The air possessed its 
most stimulating and delightful qualities. The clear blue 
sky displayed ten thousand brilliants. There was a "sea 
of glass,” the ice being fresh, smooth, even transparent, 
receiving, and, at the same time, mildly reflecting, the 
light of the stars. The young man thought that he had 
never seen so much beauty. At times he almost fancied 
that a shower of gems had fallen, scattering and flashing 
over the bosom of the lake. He thought, too, that he 
had seldom or never enjoyed so much pleasure. Though 
in solitude and comparative darkness, he felt a wonderful 
exhilaration. He ran, he skated, he bounded over the 
ice with great rapidity. His mind was so occupied with 
the scene above and around him, or was so absorbed in 
the pleasures of the passing moment, that he had scarcely 
a thought of the prospective debate. He certainly had 
no thought of danger. The active and happy youth 
passed beyond the middle of the lake, reached the place 
where the water was supposed to be deepest, and was run- 
ning, or skating, or skipping, lightly and swiftly, when 
his foot encountered a rough spot; he fell headlong, 
struck the ice with great force, broke it, and found him- 
self sinking in the water. Tt happened that a piece of 
ice, five or six feet long and three or four broad, sunk 
beneath him, and gave him some support. Instinctively 
he made a spring — it was a spring for life — and alighted 
on unbroken ice, which, happily, bore his weight. He 
stepped lightly and carefully forward, and escaped from 


CLOSE OF THE SCHOOL. 


81 


the terrible danger. He turned, looked at the broken ice, 
thought of the dark, deep, cold water below, and shud- 
dered. " God has been kind,” he murmured to himself. 
” Should I not give Him my heart, and serve Him for- 
ever?” Branley never forgot that night and its peril. 
Very often, indeed, he recalled to mind his solitary walk 
or run over the thin, deceptive ice, and his plunge into 
the water. Very often he reflected how he might, unseen 
by the eyes of man, unknown to every human being, have 
sunk in the abyss and perished. And he never thought 
of the night and its peril without a fresh shudder, and 
without a renewal of his vow to the great Preserver. It 
is highly probable that the experience of that evening had 
an important influence on his life. 

Mr. Branley did not enjoy the debate. He listened 
abstractedly, — in fact, chiefly employed himself in dry- 
ing his clothes, and thinking about his perilous adventure. 
He returned to his lodging in a serious mood. During 
the following day he was unusually sober and thoughtful, 
and when he was about to close the school in the evening, 
he preached a little sermon upon the dangers wnich beset 
human life, and illustrated his subject by a reference to 
his late adventure on the lake. 


CHAPTER XI. 

CLOSE OF THE SCHOOL. 

The snow and ice had almost disappeared. April was 
near, with its showers and fickle smiles. The last day of 
March was the last day of school. That day had come. 
The teacher was excited and anxious. He was about to 
finish an important work, receive his wages, and return to 


82 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


his native liome, — a place that he loved most dearly. The 
scholars were variously affected. Some were glad, — glad 
that they were about to be relieved from study. Others 
were sorry, — sorry that they could study and recite no 
more. Some of the young men and women had attended 
school for the last time, and, on that account, may have 
been more or less thoughtful and sad. 

The closing hour arrived ; and Mr. Branley, feeling 
constrained to give expression to some of his thoughts 
and emotions, addressed the school as follows : 

” My dear young friends, we have had a pleasant time 
together. And we have been mutually serviceable. You 
have learned something from me, and I have learned 
something from you. A mutual stimulus was imparted, 
and progress has been constant and rapid. To continue 
our studies together would be delightful, and, no doubt, 
profitable ; but that cannot be. We must leave the 
school ; we must separate ; we must go forth to our 
summer employments. These young men and stout 
boys, with few exceptions, will engage in the labors of 
the field and the forest, and, I hope, will be contented 
and happy, as well as industrious. These girls, older 
and younger, will have their appropriate work in the 
house and the garden ; and, possibly, when haymaking 
comes, with its hurry and bustle, they may be called to 
pleasant work in the freshly-mown and fragrant meadows. 
Their hands will become a little harder and their cheeks 
a little browner ; but, as I trust, their steps will be still 
elastic, and their hearts still buoyant and cheerful. Next 
summer, we may be sure, will be a busy one, and all will 
have something to do. Still, my young friends, you 
should not forget your books ; you should not abandon 
your studies. Learn something every day. If you can- 
not study your school-book, then study the great book of 
Natoe. If you cannot listen to me, or to any other 


CLOSE OF THE SCHOOL. 


83 


teacher, listen to the winds and birds, the trees and 
dowers, the clouds and stars. All things have voices and 
speak to us ; all things will teach us if we are willing to 
learn. 

” My young friends, let us be contented with our lot. 
Let us be satisfied with country life. I make no account 
of this little village ; you are all country people. Let us 
not envy the people who live in cities and towns. I at- 
tended the Academy in M ; I have been several times 

in P ; and I know something about the people in 

those places. Some classes toil incessantly. The very 
poor suffer a continuous death. The rich have perpetual 
trouble, increasing their wealth, guarding their treasures, 
and conforming to the inexorable demands of fashion and 
folly. City people, it is true, have advantages ; but we 
have advantages which are great, and wliich we should 
very much prize. We live in a land flowing with milk 
and honey. No one among us sufiers, or need suffer, 
the want of bread. We breathe pure air, and not air 
tainted by garbage and all manner of filth. We walk in 
the glorious sunshine, and not in the sombre shadows cast 
by huge brick walls. We live among trees, and fiowers, 
and green fields, and wavy meadows, and murmuring 
streams. We have better morals, more social equality, 
— in fact, more real happiness than can be justly claimed 
by the people of the cities. Then, why may not the 
country improve indefinitely? Why may we not have 
large, well-cultivated, productive farms? Why may we 
not have beautiful homes, — homes provided with every 
convenience and comfort? Why may we not, in the 
course of time, secure all literary and religious advan- 
tages? And why may we not be intelligent, refined, 
even polished, and as happy as any people can be in this 
world? I wish to say to these young men and women 
that, while living in the country, they need not meet one 


84 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


serious disadvantage, and need not miss one real enjoy- 
ment of life. 

” Some of you,” he continued, speaking with deep 
solemnity, "look serious, even sad to-day. I might be 
able to guess a few of your thoughts. Your reflections 
may be these : ' The days of our childhood are gone for- 
ever. Even our school-days are past now. We must go 
out into the world and fight the great battles of life.’ 
W ell, to feel regrets about the past and anxieties about 
the future is perfectly natural. My friends, I am one of 
your class ; I share in your regrets and anxieties. Let us 
be brave ; let us have pure hearts ; let us do right ; let us 
do good. Let us carefully consult the Holy Bible, which 
'is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path.’ Let us 
trust in wisdom and power which are infinitely greater 
than our own ; and the God of our fathers and mothers 
will guide us, defend us, make us useful and happy, and 
prepare us for His everlasting kingdom. 

"My dear young friends, I bid you farewell.” 

Sometimes, in the present day, the teacher seems to 
lose all interest in his school when the closing hour ar- 
rives. He becomes impatient, hurries the recitations, if 
there be any, scarcely speaks a kind word and gives no 
advice at all, dismisses abruptly, and hastens to the 
treasurer for his pay. Mr. Branley’s spirit and conduct, 
as exhibited in the closing hours, deserve consideration. 
He manifested a deep interest, even a tender interest, in 
his school, purposely prolonged the recitations, uttered 
many kind words, advised as well as he was able, kept 
the scholars together as long as possible, and dismissed 
them in the most formal and affectionate manner. 

The children did not leave the house with a rush and a 
shout, as they had been accustomed to do. In general, 
they walked away soberly and quietly. Mr. Branley, as 
was natural, and could hardly have been wrong, looked 


CLOSE OF THE SCHOOL. 


85 


for Flora, who was now walking towards the door, and 
who, at the same time, happened to turn slightly — per- 
haps looking for Mr. Branley. Her cheeks were certainly 
wet with tears ; but there was the beautiful smile, — the 
beauty hightened by the tears, — the smile that had so 
often given sunshine and hope. The witchery, the 
power, of a smile is great. It is quite probable that 
Flora Calvert was not conscious that she smiled, and had 
not a suspicion that the expression of her face, whatever 
it might be, would have any serious result. Yet she 
smiled ; and the beautiful and sweet expression of her 
face, while affording exquisite pleasure for the moment, 
caused Mr. Branley to think that he would see her again, 
and that the beautiful face, turning to him kindly, and 
smiling sweetly, would fill his heart with rapture. He 
knew that this young lady could be his scholar no more ; 
but he was abundantly consoled by the reflection that she 
might be something better, something nearer and dearer, 
— a sweetheart. 

Mr. Branley supposed that he had completed his work 
at Konneautt Lake. He was mistaken. The subscrip- 
tions had to be collected. There was a finishing work, 
as there had been a preparatory' work. And who was 
authorized or required to do it ? There was a collector of 
taxes, but there was no collector of school money. Some 
of the employers suggested that, as Mr. Branley had ob- 
tained the subscriptions, he was the man who should col- 
lect them. Others suggested that, as Mr. Branley had 
plenty of time, while the citizens were entering upon their 
spring work, and were very busy, he should cheerfully 
collect the subscriptions. A few hinted that, as the 
money was to go into Mr. Branley’s pocket, he should be 
glad to have the opportunity to collect it. ”I must earn 
my money a second time,” Mr. Branley said to himself. 
As he could not return home without his money, he 


8G 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


agreed to accept the office of collector, and perform its 
unpleasant and unrequited labors. A few persons came 
forward voluntarily to Mr. Branley and paid him. Others 
on whom he called paid promptly. But more than one, 
when Mr. Branley approached, averted his face, continued 
at his work, and said not a word, until the teacher re- 
marked, have called for your subscription.” And more 
than one said, ” You must wait awhile.” 

The teacher called upon Mr. Bradlock, — the man whose 
motion and speech had reduced his wages five or six dollars 
a month, and the man who had virtually declined to sup- 
ply either board or lodging. Bradlock had no money. 
He did not say that he would ever have any. He said 
nothing, and, of course, made no promises. ” That is 
manly,” the teacher said to himself sarcastically. ” Why, 
this man might have safely moved for a salary of fifty dol- 
lars a month, as he intends to pay nothing.” The face of 
the young man flamed with anger ; at the same time it 
expressed the profoundest contempt. But neither the 
show of anger, or expression of contempt, affected Brad- 
lock in the smallest degree. He was insensible, or simply 
and absolutely indifferent, to what Branley and the whole 
world might think, or believe, or say, about him. The 
teacher never called upon Bradlock again, and, of course, 
never received a penny from the base and dishonest man. 

He called upon Mr. Grove, and asked for his subscrip- 
tion. Mr. Grove looked up with apparent surprise. 

” Why, Mr. Branley,” he asked, "don’t you remember 
that I paid you one day last week in Stafford’s counting- 
room ? ” 

"I remember,” said the teacher, "that you promised to 
pay, but you did not pay anything at that time;” 

"I tell you, sir,” exclaimed Grove, hotly, " that I paid 
you last week ; and I must assure you that I will not pay 
a second time.” 


CLOSE OF THE SCHOOL. 


87 


Here was another sample of coolness, and one that was 
really astounding. But the measure so coolly carried out, 
with so much affectation of hotness, was entirely success- 
ful. Mr. Branley, thinking that the statement so positively 
made, though wholly unsupported by his own recollec- 
tions, might be true, and resolving that no man should 
impugn his honesty, said nothing more about his claim. 
And so Mr. Grove paid his subscription by a bold 
assertion, — that is, as every person believed in after-time, 
by a gross falsehood, of which he was perfectly conscious. 

The teacher called upon Mr. Bayne. The old gentle- 
man sat quietly in his room, doing nothing, and probably 
thinking of nothing. ” Lady Hopeful Beldam ” sat in her 
easy-chair, mending an old garment. The girls were 
playing with a toy of some kind. Mr. Branley saluted 
the parents, and spoke pleasantly to the children. Mrs. 
Bayne, probably thinking that he had called simply to say 
good-by, gave him a formal and hearty welcome. Mr. 
Bayne remained passive and quiet ; he certainly dreamed 
of no danger or disturbance. The young man had felt 
uneasy respecting the ballad ; but he now felt pretty sure 
that Lady Hopeful and her husband knew nothing about 
it. They conversed calmly and pleasantly, and treated 
Mr. Branley with marked civility, until he happened to 
speak about the subscription. That word caused an in- 
stantaneous and ominous change. Faces, particularly the 
lady’s, gathered blackness. The children ceased playing. 
The air seemed to become thick and stifling. Mr. Bayne 
began to cough, to spit, to ” hem and haw,” most pitifully. 
Then Mrs. Bayne, with a look and tone of voice that were 
startling, remarked, 

" I think Mr. Bayne has always been too ready with 
his pen.” 

Her words were pretty and innocent enough in them- 
selves ; but they contained a sting, — in fact, were de- 


88 


KONNEAUTT LAKE, 


signed to kill two men or wound them badly. They 
touched Mr. Branley, and gave him a slight hurt. But 
they entered into the soul of* Mr. Bayne, and produced a 
sort of agony. He coughed again, spit furiously, perspired, 
turned and writhed in his chair. He looked at his wife 
with imploring helplessness. Then, without turning or 
raising his head, but with a great, convulsive effort, he 
stammered, "After awhile — in a few days, Mr. Branley.” 
The lady spoke again : 

" Mr. Branley, you should not ask for the subscription. 
" Don’t you know that our girls were often absent from 
school ? Don’t you know that we have no money ? You 
should not expect anything from us.” 

" I do not expect anything,” he remarked. " Of course, 
it is my duty to teach your children and look for no 
pay.” 

There might have been a sting in these words. But 
Mrs. Bayne did not feel the sting, if there was any; or 
she did not choose to notice the sarcasm ; she just re- 
marked, in a conciliatory way, "Mr. Bayne will do his 
best.” She probably wished to relieve herself from Mr. 
Branley ’s presence. And, possibly, she began to sympa- 
thize with her husband in his great distress. She knew 
that he desired, above all things, to be let alone. 

Mr. Branley retired. He resolved that he would never 
call again. And, doubtless, Mrs. Bayne, and her hus- 
band, too, if he was able to think about the matter, hoped 
that they would see him no more. 

However, as Branley was leaving town one day, he 
happened to meet Mr. Bayne on the public road, just 
opposite the old tannery. Having so good an opportunity 
to press his claim, he ventured to speak about it. The 
spasms, the coughing, the spitting, the stammering, all 
returned, perhaps with some aggravation. At length the 
poor man was able to say. 


CLOSE OF THE SCHOOL. 


89 


have been waiting and waiting for something to 
turn up.” 

The young man had really pitied Mr. 'Bayne, and had, 
at one time, actually resolved to press his claim no far- 
ther. But this "waiting and waiting for something to 
turn up ” made him indignant. He lost his patience and 
temper so far as to say, sharply, 

"Mr. Bayne, you may wait through all eternity and 
nothing will turn up, unless you go to work and earn 
something.” 

]Mr. Branley walked away. He did not wait to see 
whether his words had, or had not, any good effect. Mr. 
Bayne was not a very old man. Apparently he en- 
joyed good health. He was able, as people generally be- 
lieved, to work and earn a living. The indignant youth’s 
plain and sharp words, therefore, seemed to fit the man 
and the occasion. If there was a sting in them, was it 
not deserved and needed? After all, the young man did 
no good. How could he ? Sharp words will not change 
a man’s nature ; or sharp words will not cure a habit 
that has been established for half a century. 

Mr. Branley completed his work, or, rather, he ceased 
working when he saw that he could make no more collec- 
tions. He reckoned that he had lost one-sixth of his salary. 
He felt disappointed and vexed. But he had some conso- 
lations. He was sure that he had made many friends. He 
had heard many persons say, warmly, "You will come 
back, Mr. Branley, and teach our school next winter.” 
Nor was that kind invitation his principal source of pleas- 
ure. A sweet, delightful passion nestled in his heart. 
Was not that better than gold and silver in his purse? 
Was it not more than a compensation for all his toil and 
trouble ? So the happy youth gathered up his earnings 
and his luggage, bid good-by to Konneautt Lake and 
the people, and went home. 


90 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


CHAPTER XII. 

SUMMER ITS EMPLOYMENTS AND ITS PLEASURES. 

Work is the law of nature, the law of our existence. 
The law itself may be stated thus : "Work or die.” The 
law, if not written upon our hearts, is written upon the 
external world. We may read it on the trees, the fields, 
the posts, the farm buildings and implements, the shops, 
the factories, the great ships at sea, and everywhere. The 
voices of nature proclaim the law. The wintry winds, 
roaring in the forest, sweeping over the fields, chilling the 
blood of man and beast, call us to work, saying, forcibly, 
" Build houses ; protect yourselves and your flocks from 
the storm and the cold.” The summer showers that fall 
so gently, the sunbeams that come so silently, the heat 
that pervades earth and air, giving life and growth to 
vegetation, say, "Work, — plant, cultivate, and secure 
harvests in their season.” Animate nature, especially the 
insect world, speaks to us and commends industry. The 
bees work, building their beautiful combs, and gathering 
their stores from the field and the forest. The ants work, 
excavating their dwellings and diligently gathering their 
food. 

It is true that a few persons — Mr. Bayne supplied an 
instance — do not work, and yet live awhile. But these 
few, violating the law, suffer more or less punishment. 
They spend their patrimony, if they have any, and sink 
into poverty. They forfeit the esteem of good people. 
They usually become the objects of unmitigated contempt 
and unsparing ridicule. They may suffer much from cold, 
and hunger, and nakedness. Finally, they are compelled 


SUMMER EMPL 0 YMENTS. 


91 


to look to disgusted friends or an ^ angry public for the 
means of support. They are not, perhaps, allowed to 
perish for want of bread. But who is solicitous for their 
comfort? Who is anxious that they should live? Who 
sheds a tear when their bodies are laid in the grave ? 

The men and women who attempted to support their 
growing families, and to make comfortable homes, amidst 
the great forests of Pennsylvania, certainly found that the 
lavv^ of work had not been repealed, and that its sanctions 
had not been withdraAvn. They had read in God’s book, 
"In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread.” And 
they saw plainly that, if this was a prediction, they ful- 
filled it ; and that, if this was a law, they rendered full 
obedience. The men chopped down trees, heaped and 
burnt enormous piles of logs and hrush, plowed amoirr 
stumps and roots, raised and harvested various crops, and 
attended to their cattle. The women milked the cows, 
made the butter, cooked the victuals, did much of the 
weaving and all of the sewing, worked in the garden, and 
attended to the children. It must be said that the early 
settlers, both men and women, had severe and exhausting 
labors, while they had, at first, a very limited supply of 
conveniences and comforts. Many families had no horses. 
A greater number had no wagons. No man owned a 
family carriage or a light vehicle of any kind. In many a 
case the owner of a horse did not own a saddle. Elderly 
women, as well as elderly men, often walked four or five 
miles to reach their places of worship. Young people, 
except on extraordinary occasions, made their journeys on 
foot. It may be said, at the same time, that the men and 
women who were healthy, industrious, and careful, always 
had bread, clothing, and shelter, and steadily improved 
their condition. 

The summer which followed Mr. Branley’s school was 
a busy one in the vicinity of Konneautt Lake. The sup- 


92 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


plies which had been stored away the previous season — 
the hay, corn, wheat, potatoes — were nearly consumed, 
and the people were compelled, by the law or necessities of 
their condition, to resume the work of summer, — clear 
away forests, plow and sow, plant and cultivate, and raise 
new crops. And men generally aimed at the production 
of larger crops, as the existing supplies were so scanty, 
and the wants of their families appeared to be increasing 
every year. 

What did Miss Flora Calvert do this summer? She 
lived and worked just like the other girls of the country. 
She was usually at home, and she was usually very busy. 
But it was observed that Flora was somewhat different 
from what she had been in previous years. She was not 
so cheery ; not so sociable ; not so fond of young, merry 
companions. She seemed to prefer solitude to society. 
Perhaps she had become a lover of nature. It is certain 
that, when her work permitted, and when there was no 
fresh book at hand, Flora walked forth, sometimes into 
the garden, sometimes into the meadow, often into the 
wooded valley. Not unfrequently she followed the brook, 
listened to its murmurs when the waters were low, listened 
to its roar when the waters were high, listened to the bees 
when they hummed among the linden blossoms, listened 
to the winds when they sung mournfully among the pines, 
watched the gay butterflies as they floated carelessly on the 
summer air, and stood, on a mossy bank, in the presence 
of nature and its beautiful things — in the presence of life 
and its mysteries. The girl returned home in due season, 
with flowers, mosses, and brackens in her hands, and a 
flower or two in her bonnet. 

Flora never slighted her work ; she never neglected a 
duty ; she was never sullen or cross ; but she was com- 
paratively retiring and taciturn. While engaged with 
her work, and apparently gentle and amiable, she passed 


S UMMER EM PL 0 YMENTS. 


03 


hours in mental solitude, hardly speaking a word, and 
never indulging in song or laughter. What was Flora 
thinking or doing? Was she studying the great problems 
of life? Was she seriously reflecting that now, childhood 
and school days being over, she must assume the responsi- 
bilities of womanhood? Was she awed into habitual 
solemnity and silence by thoughts of the great, uncertain, 
momentous future ? Or, was this girl ” building castles 
in the air”? Was she dreaming while awake? Was she 
thinking of the past, — of the winter school, — of her 
young companions, — of the teacher? Was she picturing 
a rosy future — a scene in wliich herself, a noble lover 
and husband, and a beautiful cottage, were the central 
and conspicuous objects? 

It was plain, indeed, that Flora’s mind was absorbed 
by something apart from her work and the people around 
her. Sometimes, when perfectly silent, she seemed to be 
engaged, not only in thought, but in conversation. Was 
she living in an imaginary world, conversing with imagi- 
nary beings, or with absent persons who were conceived to 
be present? It is known that young people are apt to 
indulge in fancies, or to live in a world of their own. 
The habit is not commendable, — is not healthy for body 
or mind, — is not adapted to prepare one for the realities 
of life. 

The girl’s conduct, however, admitted of a solution 
which did not imply the existence of a bad habit or 
morbid state of mind. Flora was a clever story-teller ; 
she was accustomed to gather nephews and nieces around 
her, and describe the travels and adventures of some won- 
derful man, woman, or child. The young folks always 
listened with the greatest interest ; sometimes they laughed, 
and sometimes they cried; sometimes they jumped up, 
clapped their hands, and shouted, and sometimes they 
shuddered, looked aghast, and shrunk * back, as if they 


94 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


wished to hide. When a story was finished, the children 
almost invariably cried out, ” Oh what a good one ! won’t 
you tell us another ? ” Flora had not read many stories ; 
she had no literary aspirations ; she never dreamed of 
writing a novel ; yet she could tell a story — a very 
strange one, and produce a marvelous effect ; and she 
commonly had a number of stories ready for use. May 
it not be supposed, then, that, at those times, when the 
girl seemed to be in a reverie, when her lips moved, but 
said nothing, she was inventing a story and preparing it 
for recital ? And yet, it could not be clearly seen, or 
fully understood, why Flora should invent stories and 
reserve them in her memory. She could make a story 
and tell it at the same time ; and the improvised tale 
appeared to be as good as any. Sometimes, as she began 
a story, with the little folks around her, she had no plan 
in her mind, and did not know what the next sentence 
would be. The next sentence, and the next, came readily ; 
adventure followed adventure ; the little folks listened 
eagerly, and they soon became so interested in the career 
of an imaginary hero or heroine that they forgot them- 
selves and the whole real world. 

Miss Calvert had no apparent reason for mopishness, 
melancholy, or trouble of any kind ; she had fine health ; 
she had a comfortable home ; she was surrounded by very 
good friends ; and pleasant neighbors were not far away. 
Then, the summer and fall afforded some recreations and 
amusements ; the young people could visit friends ; they 
could sail on the lake ; they could ramble in the woods 
and gather nuts ; they could enter the marsh and gather 
cranberries. Now and then, there was a "chopping” and 
"quilting.” In all cases, a chopping and quilting hap- 
pened at the same time, and had certain relations ; the 
chopping was done in the woods ; the quilting was done 
in the house. During the day or afternoon, a space three 


S UMMER EM PL 0 YMENTS. 


y5 

or four hundred yards wide may have intervened between 
the choppers and quilters ; but, in the evening, the chop- 
pers invariably walked over this intervening space and 
joined the quilters ; then, work and supper being over, 
the young peoj)le engaged in their noisy but innocent 
plays, and had a pleasant time. 

Why, then, should Flora Calvert have been unhappy? 
Why should she have sought retirement ? Had her heart 
a craving which was not satisfied? Certainly this girl 
had opportunities to please and satisfy herself. Tom Mc- 
Connell was always near, offering his respectful and kind 
attentions. Many others, not far away, would have 
offered their homage and their hearts, if they had received 
the slightest encouragement. It is true that Stafford and 
Branley were not seen now, Stafford being away in the 
cities, and Branley being at home. But did Flora care 
for them? Then, if these young men did leave a sort of 
vacuum, — in society, if not in her heart, — might it not 
have been filled, or more than filled, by a new-comer? 
A young man, calling himself George Lambrun, came 
into the neighborhood. No one could tell why he came 
or why he stayed. But he was prepared for any kind of 
work or business. He was a carpenter, a millwright, a 
sawyer, a chopper, a hunter. He was tall and straight in 
person. He had good features, a dark complexion, and 
very dark, brilliant eyes. Some of the girls declared that 
he was very handsome. Others affirmed that he was 
homely. Some people, old and young, thinking that his 
face had a sinister expression, were disposed to avoid him. 
Lambrun was a bold and dashing fellow ; he commonly 
made a good impression at first ; and he was ready to see, 
and follow up, any advantage gained by his good looks, 
boldness, or luck. He saw Flora Calvert at a party, and 
became at once an open and professed admirer. He saw 
her frequently. Flora treated him civilly, just as she 


96 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


treated almost every one ; while the young man, regard- 
ing her civility as something special, was encouraged to 
make a formal assault upon the citadel of her heart. He 
had no apparent success. 

Flora Calvert was a mystery to her friends and neigh- 
bors. Perhaps she was a mystery to herself. Perhaps 
a young girl — one that is active, thoughtful, inquisitive, 
indulging in romance, watching showy phantoms, peering 
into the future, perhaps varying hourly in her moods — is 
always a mystery — at least a most interesting object — 
to the philosophical observer. 


CHAPTER XHI. 

A VISIT. 

One morning in June, when Nature appeared in her 
most beautiful robe. Flora Calvert walked into the garden 
to work a few minutes. She wore her ordinary dress ; 
but her ordinary dress was always neat and pretty. As 
usual, she had the white collar ; and her hair was arranged 
in braids and waves. A band encircled her waist. Many 
flowers were in bloom, or preparing to exhibit their 
charms. There was not a great variety of flowers, but 
there was a profusion of certain kinds — tulips, sweet- 
williams, peonies, roses, and others. Rose-bushes, com- 
prising several varieties, formed a novel and pretty circle, 
a few feet in diameter. Flora, this time, did not engage 
promptly in the execution of her task — the extirpation of 
weeds from a bed of onions. Was she not quite excusable ? 
Surely the bright morning was to be enjoyed. Surely the 
beautiful things around her were to be seen and admired. 
Surely it was proper that Flora, now in early maidenhood, 


A VISIT, 


97 


should look at Nature and enjoy life. For the time, 
while her senses were regaled with the beauty and fra- 
grance of flowers, she was too happy to think of her 
work. She walked around, examined the buds and flow- 
ers, plucked a sweet-william, admired its name, experi- 
mented with its perfume, plucked some tulips, and planned 
a bouquet for the parlor. She approached the circle of 
rose-bushes, noticed the buds that were bursting into the 
perfection of beauty, then surveyed the roses that were in 
fresh, full bloom, then glanced at others whose fading 
glory reminded her that man himself, being as a flower of 
the fleld, must soon fade and pass away. Presently, the 
girl plucked two superb roses, attached one to the front 
of her collar, and, removing her bonnet, placed the other 
among the waves of her dark hair. Thus adorned, she 
stepped into the space enclosed by the rose-bushes, placed 
herself in the centre of the rosy circle, and looked towards 
the house, perhaps expecting that some one, coming out, 
would see and admire her position and her ornaments. 
She was startled, for a person whom she had not seen, 
but who stood almost at her side, pronounced her name : 

''Flora I” 

She looked around hastily, and saw Mr. John Branley. 

" Flora,” repeated Mr. Branley, as he stood with his 
hands on the paling, his face expressing unbounded admi- 
ration and pleasure. " You are at home I see — among 
the flowers. What a beautiful home you have, and how 
suitable ! The home fits you, and you fit the home. 
Where should Flora dwell if not among the roses? Well, 
you always loved flowers. Your mother was endowed 
with a wonderful prescience, or made a happy guess, when 
she resolved that your name should be Flora.” 

Was this flattery ? Not at all. Was it an unmeaning 
rhapsody? No. It was just the sincere expression of the 
young man’s real thoughts and feelings. It is true that 


98 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


he never had previously addressed such language to Flora 
Calvert, but the circumstances were new and exciting. 
He had not seen the girl for two or three months ; he 
found her unexpectedly ; he saw her in a most interesting 
place — her home of flowers. He saw, too, as he thought, 
a decided increase of personal charms, at least in some 
respects, as if work had been better for her than study. 
Her person had a greater fulness and symmetry than for- 
merly ; her cheeks had a deeper color ; her eyes had a 
more startling brilliancy ; and, oh, that smile ! sweet 
before, but sweeter now. There Flora stood, rivaling the 
roses in bloom, beauty, and sweetness. What could the 
young man do but give expression to his feelings of 
admiration and delight ? Branley would gladly have done 
more than use fine words. If it had been his privilege, 
he would have sprung over the fence, clasped the girl in 
his arms, and kissed her rosy cheek. 

"Do you like flowers, Mr. Branley?” the girl asked. 

"Yes,” he replied, "particularly o/ie.” 

What was this? Had Mr Branley really become a 
flatterer? AYas he deliberately indulging in the use of 
extravagant words? Flora was not offended — perhaps 
she was pleased ; but without seeming to notice the com- 
pliment, or whatever it was, she remarked, 

"Mr. Branley, if you are fond of flowers, go around 
to the gate and come in, and get a better view of our 
beauties.” 

Branley walked hurriedly to the gate, and entered the 
garden ; but before he looked at a flower he caught 
Flora’s hand and held it awhile. Her hand, he noticed, 
was a little browner and a little harder than it had been 
in the winter ; but he was sure that it retained its electric 
power, for it gave him a most delightful thrill. Flora 
forgot her work or neglected it; and Mr. Branley had 
not come to weed an onion- bed. So, the two walked 


A VISIT. 


99 


around, chatted gaily, and pretended to look at the 
flowers. However, they looked at nothing beyond them- 
selves. Just then the splendors of the morning, the 
charms of nature, the glory of the world, were overlooked 
or forgotten. The young man and his companion were 
wrapt up, absorbed, lost — at least, one of them was — 
in present, actual happiness. 

At length, the happy pair entered the house. Mr. 
Branley found the old lady in good health and spirits, 
and received from her a hearty welcome. Mrs. Calvert 
was a woman of fine appearance and pleasing manners. 
She was kind and motherly, and, indeed, had been a 
mother to Mr. Branley when he lived among strangers. 
But she was no schemer or manager, and probably had 
never said a word or done a thinof to aid her daujjhters in 
the matter of courtship and marriage. She set before 
them a good example of womanly virtues ; she gave them 
good advice in regard to matters and things in general ; 
but affairs of the heart she left to themselves and to 
Providence. This good lady treated Mr. Branley, during 
his present visit, with her usual civility and kindness. 

Branley spent several delightful hours with Mrs. Cal- 
vert and the young folks. He dined with the family. 
He engaged Miss Flora’s company for an excursion on 
the lake. Late in the afternoon he started for Evans- 
burgh. 

The young man had a wonderful experience. He 
scarcely knew whether' he was walking on the surface of 
the earth or floating through the air. He scarcely knew 
whether he was in the world or in Elysium. A thousand 
soft, sweet voices chanted around him. All space was 
filled with sunshine, beauty, music, and fragrance. As 
far as emotion was concerned he was conscious of noth- 
ing, knew nothing, but ecstasy. Life, existence itself, 
seemed to be the consciousness of intense, indescribable 


100 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


pleasure. Yet all this may be stated in one word — 
love. Whatever disappointed or cynical people may say, 
love is a great, beneficent power, filling the heart with 
the purest and best of earthly joys, — filling even the 
external world with warmth and splendor. In fact, 
without it, the earth would be a desert, or something 
worse, and life would be a burden and a sorrow. 

The happy youth reached Evansburgh, spoke to the 
acquaintances whom he happened to meet, took a rapid 
survey of the lake and its surroundings in their summer 
aspect, engaged skiffs and canoes for the excursion, and 
then rambled awhile in the fields and woods, thinking and 
thinking. " Oh, if I were a painter ! ” he said to himself. 
"Oh, if I could paint a landscape, with a house and a 
garden in the centre, and a lady in the garden ! Oh, if I 
could paint Flora Calvert, standing among the flowers ! 
If I could paint, I would make a beautiful picture. But 
I cannot paint ; I can hardly make a rough drawing.” 

His mind was occupied with regrets; but, happily,' it 
soon took a turn, and Branley said to himself, " There is 
another kind of painting that is very good. Word- 
•painting may answer every necessary purpose ; and can 
I not do a little painting of that kind ? I will try ; I 
will try.” 

Next morning Branley left his room, left the town, left 
the highway, entered the forest, and advanced towards the 
great marsh, formed by the waters which flowed from Kon- 
neauttLake. The marsh was inhabited by reptiles, musk- 
rats, and other creatures. It was the source of fogs which 
were not agreeable — perhaps of miasmas which were not 
healthy. It had no attractions in the month of June. Why 
did the young man walk into the dark forest ? Why did he 
approach the gloomy, solitary marsh ? Why did he seek 
a strip of land projecting into the marsh, — dry and 
smooth enough, but skirted by pools of black water and 


A VISIT. 


101 


clumps of alder and bramble? Why did he enter into 
the very heart of this lonely, dreary, unattractive region? 
He was in quest of absolute solitude and silence ; he was 
seeking inspiration ; and he hoped to find all in the depth 
of primeval nature. He desired, with all advantages, 
external and internal, to concentrate his skill and energies 
upon 2i picture. 

The young man found a place that suited. He had 
not a glimpse of a farm or clearing. He saw not a mark 
left by the axe. He saw nothing except trees, bushes, 
flags, and water. He heard nothing except the occasional 
chirp of a bird, and that did no harm. He stood in deep 
shadow. Only now and then, here and there, a sunbeam 
secured a passage through the dense foliage and reached 
the ground. The youth, now an amateur artist, sat down 
on a mossy bank, reclined against a tree, took paper and 
pencil from his pocket, threw liimself into a reverie, then 
into a trance, conjured up all the beautiful things of the 
world, particularly flowers, and more particularly still, 
a woman — a young, beautiful, blushing, sweet maiden ; 
and then the artist began to paint, that is, in words. 
He painted and painted ; that is, he wrote or scribbled, 
crossed out words, interlined, added verse to verse, and 
transcribed the whole. Hours were passed in executing 
the self-imposed task. At length it was finished ; the 
artist rose up, put the picture, or whatever it was, in his 
pocket, and returned to the village. 

A certain question demanded a speedy settlement. 
Mr. Branley was pretty well satisfied with his picture, 
and he was fully determined to present it to Flora. 
" When shall I present it ? ” was the question which now 
pressed itself on his mind and gave him some per- 
plexity. At first he thought he would defer the presen- 
tation till the excursion should be over, and he should be 
ready to start for home ; but, feeling very anxious to see 


102 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


the effect of his artistic labors, he concluded to present 
the painting next day. He stayed another night at Evans- 
burgh. He rose early in the morning, corrected his 
word-painting or literary work, wrote a fair copy, went 
to Calvert’s, said a word or two about the prospective 
excursion, put the copy into Flora’s hands, and hastily 
withdrew. 

Flora was agitated now. She had never received a 
paper from Mr. Branley before, and, therefore, fully ex- 
pected an important development. Was she sensible that 
she had encouraged him to make a declaration? Had 
she desired such a thing? Or was she afraid of it? 
Her heart fluttered ; she trembled exceedingly ; the paper 
almost fell from her hand. As the artist or poet antici- 
pated, Flora ran, not into the garden, but up-stairs. She 
entered her bed-chamber, closed the door, sat down, 
unfolded the paper, and read the following poem or 
ballad: — 


TO FLORA. 


O couldst thou know my love for thee, 
My love so strong and true ! 

O couldst thou give thy love to me, 

And be as faithful too ! 

Thou art in all my dreams by night, — 

In all my thoughts by day ; 

Come, then, make life and nature bright. 
Dear Flora, come away. 


O let this purest bliss be mine — 

To view thee so complete ; 

To see a thousand charms combine, 

A thousand virtues meet. 

Why should such wondrous worth and bloom 
In lone seclusion stay? 

Come forth, leave solitude and gloom. 

Sweet Flora, come away. 


A VISIT. 


103 


- For thee the tinted buds expand, 

For thee the lilies call : 

Among the roses thou wilt stand, 

Most beautiful of all. 

Come, seek the fairest earthly scene ; 

Come in thy choice array ; 

Come, be an honored, happy queen ; 

Bright Flora, come away. 

To shine, but not in festive halls, 

Among the rich and proud ; 

To rule, not as a belle enthrals 
- A light and foolish crowd ; 

To do a woman’s noble part. 

With loving, gentle sway; 

To reign in one enraptured heart. 

Dear Flora, come away. 

Come, then, in early, rosy youth. 

With qualities divine — 

Love,- wisdom, purity, and truth. 

And be forever mine. 

Yes, dear, dear girl, thou must comply. 

Distinctly, promptly say, 

“I will,” nor let me always cry, 

“ Sweet Flora, come away.” 

E’en should thy mother say, “ Beware ! ” 

I’ll win thee from her side ; 

And thou, my sweetly-blushing fair. 

Will be my lovely bride. 

See ! many, many guests are here. 

To grace our bridal day ; 

The holy man will soon appear, — 

Dear Flora, come away. 

What does this mean ? ” Flora earnestly inquired in 
her own mind. ” Is it a declaration of love and a pro- 
posal of marriage? Or is it simply a poetic compli- 
ment?” She soliloquized further: "This is poetry, not 
serious, trustworthy prose. Poetry has its own license 
and its own language. Poetry is designed to please — 
that is aU. Prose is usually written for a serious pur- 
pose. If Mr. Branley had written in prose, and used 


104 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


only half of the strong, loving words which he employs 
in this poem, I should have concluded that he was offering 
me his heart and trying to win mine. As he writes in 
the form of poetry, I conclude that he simply wishes to 
compliment me and give me a little pleasure.” 

The girl’s excitement passed away. She had, indeed, 
something to employ her thoughts awhile, — something to 
excite emotions that were not at all disagreeable. But as 
she believed that no declarations had been made, and that 
no important question demanding a speedy and final 
answer had been presented, she really had nothing to 
disturb her equanimity. She folded the paper and placed 
it in her trunk. When Mr. Branley met Flora next day, 
she was precisely the same girl whom he had been accus- 
tomed to see ; she was calm, unembarrassed, amiable, and 
smiling. He saw plainly that his poetry had not offended 
her, but he was unable to see that it had touched her 
lieart, and won for him any special regard. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

AN EXCURSION. 

On Thursday morning, according to arrangement, fif- 
teen or twenty young people assembled on the bank of the 
lake. Mr. Branley, having been a teacher, was called by 
his surname. All others were addressed by their Christian 
names, or names that were familiar. Some of the names 
may be given. There was a Charley, a Jim, a George ; 
and there were two or three Johns, besides Mr. B. There 
was a Kate, a Caroline, a Sarah, a Jenny, a Flora ; besides, 
there were two or three Marys. Henry Stafford and Tom 
McConnell were not present, Stafford being absent from 


AN EXCURSION. 


105 


home, and McConnell being slightly ill. There never 
was a gayer company ; perhaps there never was a happier 
one. The day was as fine and agreeable as summer and 
the climate could afford. The scenery was as beautiful 
as could be found. The young people had excellent 
health, and, as far as can be told, no troubles whatever. 
It is true that they had little finery. They made no dis- 
play of grandeur, and but little show of fashion. In 
later years, the parties that visited the lake, and had a 
sail, were, in many cases, both fashionable and grand, the 
ladies, at least on special occasions, flashing with jewelry, 
wearing rich, glossy silk, and carrying trains of enormous 
length and breadth. These young people wore very cheap 
and plain clothes, yet every young man had garments that 
suited the weather and the occasion, and every young 
woman had a dress that was indisputably neat and be- 
coming. Almost every girl wore a white, embroidered 
cape, a nice ruff* or collar, a bonnet graceful in form, neat 
in workmanship, and picturesque and gay with bows and 
pendants. Not a ring or brooch could be seen. But 
these maidens had a beautiful substitute for jewelry : buds 
and flowers adorned their hair and their bonnets ; buds 
and flowers occupied the place of pins and brooches. 
Flora Calvert wore a magnificent rose. Such was the 
dress of these country girls. Would not such a dress be 
picturesque and pretty to-day ? Would not a bonnet — 
a real bonnet — look better than a bit of something placed 
over the brows, or on tlie back of the head? Would not 
white stockings and morocco shoes look infinitely better 
than a long, filthy train ? 

Talking, laughing, shouting, the excursionists prepared 
to enter their sailing-vessels. They had two skiff's and 
three canoes. Skiff's were just coming into use, and, as 
very few existed, canoes were required to supply the 
needed accommodations. The skiff's were new, pretty, 


106 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


convenient and safe. The canoes were long, slender and 
light. They could be easily moved, but were liable to 
rock, and were not just perfectly convenient and safe for 
the girls. Sails were not used on this occasion. The 
skiffs were propelled with oars, and the canoes were 
moved with paddles. 

Mr. Branley took possession of a skiff, and placed 
Flora at the prow. Another pair followed and seated 
themselves. There was a general rush, and, with much 
excitement and laughter, and a little screaming as the 
canoes began to roll, all secured places aboard the little 
crafts. Charley Calvert, occupying the second skiff, with 
Caroline at the prow and Jenny at the stern, began to 
move forward. 

Halt ! ” shouted Branley, who was recognized as cap- 
tain or admiral. ” The royal barge must be in front ; the 
queen must lead; fall back, Charley.” Then, turning to 
the young man who sat near, he issued an order : ” Han- 
dle the oars, George.” 

The subaltern obeyed promptly, and handled the oars 
vigorously; the royal yacht, or whatever it was, darted 
forward and led the fleet. Branley had now reached the 
highest pitch of enthusiasm ; probably he had reached the 
acme of human felicity. He stood erect, waved his hat, 
and shouted. The circumstances were truly auspicious. 
He was sailing on a beautiful water, a beautiful world 
around him, a beautiful girl before him, her face flushed 
with excitement and radiant with smiles. And was not 
this beautiful, smiling, happy girl, his own? No rival 
was present to dispute his claims, or give him the least 
annoyance. No wonder that he was excited, wild, deliri- 
ous. But there was ” method in his madness.” He had 
provided a long, slender pole, designing to use it for a 
fishing-rod, a mast, or a flag-staff. Just now, he needed 
a flag-staff, for he held 4 flag in his hand. He attached 


AN EXCURSION 


107 


the flag, elevated and unfurled it, to catch the gentle 
breeze, and become a conspicuous object. Then, looking 
at the young folks in the other crafts, all moving nearly 
abreast, he shouted, 

" Behold the royal banner ! ” 

Having a sudden recollection of Queen Cleopatra and 
her magnificent vessel, Branley had almost said, This is 
Queen Cleopatra in her royal barge. ; give her your hom- 
age.” But he restrained himself; for, recalling the fact 
that the Egyptian queen was very bad as well as very 
beautiful, he began to fear that he might commit a sort of 
outrage upon innocence and virtue, and insult the queen 
who sat before him, and who, he was sure, deserved the 
love and homage of all good people. 

" Konneautt Lake may be proud to-day,” said the ad- 
miral. ” Never before has it borne so much beauty and 
chivalry.” 

Except when it bore the dusky Indians, skimming the 
water in their bark canoes,” responded Charley. 

” Charley,” inquired the admiral, speaking sternly, 
are you an admirer of birch canoes and dusky maidens ? 
Be careful, if you are not ready for a discharge. The 
man who does not properly admire these elegant crafts, 
and these fair ladies, cannot be retained in my service. 
Past ages cannot, in any respect, equal the present.” 

” Captain, I revoke my opinions,” Charley said, meekly. 
" I now declare, positively, that crafts so elegant, and 
ladies so fair, were never seen on Konneautt Lake, or any 
other lake. The fact is,” Charley continued in low tones, 
" I would change my opinions a thousand times, or accept 
anything you suggest, even your newest philosophy, ab- 
surd as it may be, rather than be discharged to-day.” 

” Charley, you are a changeling,” Sarah remarked, 
dryly. "Your opinions are worth nothing. We don’t 
care what you think of the skiffs and ladies, or of the new 
philosophy, whatever it may be,” 


108 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


"Oh, excuse him,” cried Charley’s sister. "The youth 
is re-forming his opinions, and you see that they are 
becoming sensible. Under the care and direction of his 
able instructors, he will soon be right on all points, and, 
with the present aid continued, he will waver no more.” 

" We will do our duty,” said Caroline. 

"Flora,” inquired Mr. Branley, "of what does this 
voyage remind you ? Docs it recall the voyage of life ? 
The voyage of life, it is said, has, usually, a most aus- 
picious beginning, the weather being calm and delightful, 
the waters placid, the scenery varied and charming, the 
vessel gliding along smoothly and safely, the voyager hav- 
ing great present enjoyment, and the most cheering antic- 
ipations. Flora, this water looks like a beautiful river. 
See the green fields on the eastern shore. See the great 
evergreen forest on the western. See the white houses on 
a northern point. Flowers must bloom all along the mar- 
gin of the water, and songsters must fill the woods with 
melody. Our voyage is most delightful, but. Flora, 
how will it end? Are there rapids, cataracts, and whirl- 
pools before us ? ” 

" There are no dangers before us,” said Flora. "We 
are sailing on a lake, not on a river. Besides, we are 
sailing up, not down.” 

" True,” remarked Branley. "But, Flora, what would 
you say in regard to the other voyage — the voyage of 
life? We are now in the early part of that voyage. So 
far, the voyage has been pleasant to me, and, I think, 
very pleasant to you. To-day I find the voyage intensely 
delightful, and, I trust, your experience is the same. 
What is before us ? Storm, shipwreck, and destruction, 
or a smooth sea, safety, and happiness ? ” 

" I do not know, and I scarcely wish to know,” replied 
the young woman. 

" Flora, I am thinking about matters and things con- 


AN EXCURSION 


109 


nected with the voyage — landmarks, capes, islands, har- 
bors, passengers.” 

” Perhaps you are doing wrong. It would be unwise 
to think anxiously about the future.” 

” Then we may be happy to-day — happy in the first 
part of life’s voyage.” 

" Certainly. Why should you anticipate evil, Mr. 
Branley , and be miserable ? ” 

"Oh, miss, I am anticipating good, and so am now very 
happy. I regard this delightful voyage as an emblem of 
the voyage of life. This glorious day, this smooth, 
shining water, this pleasant breeze that fans us, this 
gliding, agreeable motion, and this delightful companion- 
ship, give me an assurance that the voyage of life will be 
prosperous and happy in the future.” 

" You are wrong again, Mr. Branley. Many a future 
day will not be like this day. Many a future day may 
be, as many a past day has been, dark and stormy, and 
yet may be, just as much as this day, an emblem of life. 
The truth is, Mr. Branley, life has light and shadow, 
calm and storm, good and evil. We should be prepared 
for whatever may come. Meanwhile we should enjoy 
whatever kind Heaven offers, and be happy.” 

"You are a wise girl,” said the young man, "andiwish 
that you would always be my teacher.” 

"As you taught me awhile, perhaps I should teach you 
awhile,” said Flora, laughing. " But do you not ask or 
wish for too much ? I do not owe the service of my whole 
life. Besides, I might grow weary in teaching, and you 
might grow weary in learning. Be just and reasonable, 
Mr. Branley.” 

The conversation, though varied with pleasantries, had 
become rather too serious for the time and the circum- 
stances. However, Mr. Branley had a serious object in 
view. He wished to test, in a new and extraordinary 


no 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


way, the mental powers of his companion. He wished to 
measure her intellectual resources. The voyage on the 
lake gave him an opportunity to speak of the voyage of 
life, and, more or less indirectly, to state problems relating 
to human life, experience, and destiny. He purposely 
presented narrow or partial views, and mixed things which 
are distinct, to try her powers of perception and discrimi- 
nation. He was intensely gratified. He felt the pro- 
foundest respect for the young girl who sat before him. 
Mr. Branley had previously thought that Flora’s mental 
powers were good : he now believed that they were very 
superior. Indeed, he began to have a suspicion, if not a 
conviction, that this young girl, leaving him to flounder 
in the shallows, could explore, with ease and safety, the 
depths of theology and philosophy. Presently, the seri- 
ous topic was changed to something of a lighter and gayer 
nature. 

The skiffs and canoes suddenly changed their direction, 
swept into a beautiful cove, floated among water-docks 
and water-lilies, and, at last, struck the shore, where the 
primitive forest stood in its glory, and where birds and 
beasts were seldom disturbed by the approach of man. 
The party discovered a smooth bank, pretty well covered 
with spring berries and gay flowers. Some gathered ber- 
ries, some gathered flowers, while some began to talk 
about the place, its inhabitants, and its visitors. 

” The naiads, when they wish to leave the water, come 
and repose here,” said Mr. Branley, who had read some- 
thing about mythology. 

" The fairies come and dance here,” said Jim, who had 
learned from his father and mother how the fairies behaved 
in Ireland. 

" Sing, or whistle, or show your pretty faces, or do 
something, gentlemen,” cried Jenny, " and bring the 
naiads and fairies here ; I want to see them.” 


AN EXCURSION 


111 


” Oh, you would be sorry if they should come,” George 
observed. ” Why, if they should appear, we would run 
away from you and follow them.” 

” You must be easily caught,” Sarah remarked, in her 
dryest manner. ” Naiads are ugly fish, and fairies are 
no better than witches.” 

” Friends,” exclaimed Jim, let us leave their domin- 
ions before they do us any harm.” 

''Why, Jim,” responded Charley, "if we take your 
advice, we shall just run from one danger into another. 
If we escape from the artifices of the naiads and fairies, 
we shall be caught in the snares of these girls, and be led 
away into miserable captivity. Jim, can you tell me 
which would be the more cruel tyrants, the girls or the 
naiads and fairies ? ” 

" All are very cruel and to be dreaded,” replied Jim. 

"Well, gentlemen,” Flora remarked, "if you are 
alarmed, run into the woods and take refuge with the por- 
cupines ; or, which would be better, with the owls in 
their hollow trees ; you would be safe there, and, besides, 
would have wise and suitable company. We can easily 
manage the skiffs and go home.” 

Flora, having shot her arrow, ran down the hill, and 
was closely followed by all the girls. The active and 
mischievous creatures made an effort to move the skiffs 
and leave the gentlemen on the shore. They had a 
measure of success ; but some, beginning to relent, pro- 
posed terms of adjustment and peace ; and the young 
men, professing regret for their past misconduct, and 
promising better conduct for the future, — at the same 
time dexterously using the crafts left behind, — succeeded 
in regaining their places and also the favor of their fair 
companions. As noon was approaching, and luncheon was 
to be eaten, the skiffs and canoes were directed towards 
Mount Hope, as a certain place was called by the party. 


112 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Mount Hope was the extreme point of a promontory 
or strip of land which reached far into the lake. The 
point had considerable height, and in the time of high 
water was converted into an island. The elevated part 
was eighty or a hundred yards in length and fifty or sixty 
yards in breadth. Mount Hope was then, and perhaps 
is yet, an attractive and delightful place. It had a fine 
grove, which was a great ornament, and which often 
afforded shade and shelter to the birds. Flowers and 
mosses grew on the high ground, and shells and smooth, 
variegated stones lay on the beach. Mount Hope was 
just in its natural condition, the hand of man having 
neither marred or improved its appearance. Almost the 
whole expanse of water could be seen from the highest 
ground. This hill or island has always been a favorite 
place for picnics. Excursionists, provided with luncheon, 
always stop here ; and if the party embraces children and 
young people, there is invariably a frolic among the trees 
and shrubbery. 

Branley and his companions reached Mount Hope, took 
their baskets in their hands, stepped on the beach, and 
ascended the small mountain. Having reached the sum- 
mit, they stood a minute or two, and looked around. 

"This is Elysium,” said Mr. Branley. 

" No, this is Eden,” remarked Kate. 

"You are right,” exclaimed Charley, addressing the 
girl. "Adam and Eve lived here, and you know we are 
their descendants. We are just coming into the rightful 
possession of our property.” Charley paused, looked 
around at his inheritance, then deliberately surveyed the 
girls, and then, speaking in a slow, careful manner, re- 
marked, " I have always understood that Eve was beau- 
tiful, but I believe that some of her daughters far excel her.” 

The gentlemen looked around to see who was blushing. 
Their eyes settled on Caroline. — ■ ' 


AN EXCURSION. 


113 


”Let ITS stay here,” said George. "We can’t find a 
better place.” 

" Oh, before you conclude to stay,” cried Jim, "I want 
to look at the provisions. How long will they last?” 

" Provisions ! Nonsense, Jim ! ” exclaimed Charley. 
"We shall need no provisions ; we shall feast on beauty ; 
we shall be nourished with love. If, indeed, we should 
happen to get hungry, we can gather berries, or we can 
catch a fish, and roast it here, where the visitors make 
their fire.” 

"Charley,” remarked his sister, "you have lived all 
your life where there was beauty and love, and I never 
knew you to pass a day without eating and drinking. 
Beauty and love may have done you good, but you always 
required an addition of bread and butter, with an occa- 
sional supply of beef and potatoes. You cannot live on 
beauty and love, Charley.” 

"Well,” said Charley, quietly, "perhaps Flora is right. 
At any rate, we shall not begin our experiment to-day. 
Let us have our luncheon.” 

Charley’s motion was promptly seconded. The cloth 
was spread ; the baskets were emptied ; the provisions were 
properly distributed ; and the young folks, or most of 
them, sat down on the grass and leaves. The young men 
feasted on beauty — also on bread and cheese, while they 
were happy to hear Flora remark that their conduct was 
sensible. The young maidens, having failed to find any- 
thing like ambrosial diet, partook cheerfully of the ordi- 
nary food of mortals. 

Paradise proved to be an interesting topic, and was 
again introduced. 

"Well, Mr. Branley,” said George, "if you find your 
paradise here, I believe I shall go over to the mainland and 
set up a rival establishment. Don’t you see that pretty 
cottage on the green hill, the great forest a little back?” 


114 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Branley looked, and saw the house which he had first 
observed the previous October, when he stood on the 
isolated hill and took a general survey of the lake and its 
shores. 

” That is a pretty place indeed,” Mr. Branley remarked ; 
*'and, with good company, would be a charming home.” 

”Let me tell you,” said Jim, addressing George, "if 
you want to make a paradise over there, you must drive 
out the present inhabitants, as the children of Israel drove 
out the Canaanites. May I give you a bit of my experi- 
ence? Two or three weeks ago, when I was up here fish- 
ing, I noticed that pretty house standing on the grassy 
knoll, and this fancy seized me : There must be a pretty 
girl living at that pretty place ; it can’t be otherwise. I 
must call and see her, and, perhaps, fall in love with her. 
It would be romantic and delightful to come up on the 
lake every Saturday afternoon in order to see my sweet- 
heart. It would be almost as romantic and pleasant to 
follow a path through the hemlocks with this object in 
view. Well, George, — observe I am telling a secret, — 
I called at that nice house perched on the green hill, and I 
saw the girl, and I saw her mother. O George, don’t ask 
me to describe them ! But I say you must drive out the 
present inhabitants.” 

"If Stafford were here,” George remarked, "he would 
say that paradise is neither here nor there. He would say 
it is farther up the lake, — up at McLean’s, where you see 
the large farm and white house. Betsey lives there.” 

Flora and several other girls listened to George’s talk. 
Perhaps some of them questioned the accuracy of his 
knowledge. 

"If Tom McConnell were here,” Jim remarked, "he 
would say that paradise is down below Long Point, at 
Siver’s. Nancy lives there.” 

Flora and Tom’s sister, Caroline, heard Jim’s state- 


AN EXCURSION 


115 


ment, and knew very well that he blundered. The sister 
felt that the blunder ought to be noticed and corrected. 

"Quit guessing,” said Caroline, frowning. "You are 
getting wild. If Tom McConnell were here he would say 
no such thing.” 

Mr. Branley, of course, had a share in the talk and in 
the merriment. At the same time, he was commander-in- 
chief, overlooking and managing everything. He gave 
the company full time for the repast, and for the custom- 
ary frolic ; and when the proper moment had arrived, he 
rose and said, 

"Ladies and gentlemen, let us go aboard.” 

The party gathered up the baskets and other goods, and 
began to run down the hill. Meanwhile the young men 
determined to fasten the skiffs and canoes together for the 
remaining part of the voyage, and, while engaged with 
their withes and cords, the girls stood on the beach, look- 
ing at the shells and pretty stones, and chatting. 

"Are your flowers fading?” inquired Jane, speaking to 
Caroline. 

" Not much,” the other replied ; " I wet them now and 
then.” 

" What a beautiful rose Flora wears ! ” exclaimed one 
of the Marys. 

"I’ll warrant Mr. Branley thinks it beautiful,” Sarah 
remarked. 

"Yes,” interposed Jane, "and I’ll warrant there is 
something he thinks far more beautiful than the rose.” 

"What is that?” inquired several. 

" The wearer — the girl that wears the flower.” 

All heard the last remark; and two persons blushed 
this time. Of course, the two that blushed were Mr. John 
Branley and Miss Flora Calvert. 

The crafts were fastened together, the canoes in the 
middle, a skiflT on each side. One oar of each skiff and 


116 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


several paddles of each canoe could be used to give motion 
to the fleet. The admiral commanded all to go aboard. 
The girls resumed their places, and the young men, as far 
as was practicable, handled the oars and paddles. The 
flotilla began to move. At flrst, its course was toward 
Evansburgh. Presently, it seemed to take a very circu- 
itous route. Then, for a while, it seemed to turn and 
move in almost every direction. When the fleet had 
reached deep water, some of the young men, having 
nothing else to do, began to jump about as if they were 
mad, skipping from a canoe to a skifl* and from a skiff to 
a canoe, endangering the fastenings, rocking the vessels, 
and causing the girls to scream. 

” What brave girls ! ” exclaimed one of the young men, 
speaking, of course, ironically. 

" We are not foolhardy, like you,” replied Jenny ; "and 
foolhardy people are not really brave. Would you have 
courage enough to move if one of us fell overboard ? ” 

" Oh, yes,” cried several ; "we would save you.” 

" Caroline,” inquired Mr. Branley, " if you should fall 
into the water, who would jump in and save you ? ” 

" I cannot say,” replied Caroline ; " but Flora knows 
who would jump in if she happened to fall overboard. 
Ask her, Mr. Branley.” 

" Flora,” said Mr. Branley, laughing, " Caroline says 
you know something of an interesting nature. We are 
ail anxious to know it too. If you were to fall into the 
water, who would jump in and save you ? ” 

" Why, nobody,” replied Flora, promptly. " It would 
be very, very foolish for a fellow to wet his clothes when 
I could so easily save myself.” 

" But, Flora, suppose you were in real danger, would 
not some of us jump in and help you ? ” 

" I think not ; you would be too careful of your own 
precious lives to run any risk.” 


AN EXCURSION 


117 


am thinking of another question, Flora. If you 
should fall into the sea from the deck of a large ship, and 
a young man, at very great risk, should jump after you 
and be the means of saving your life, would you marry 
him ? ” 

"I cannot tell you,” the girl answered. "I would ad- 
mire his courage and be profoundly grateful for his 
generous deed ; but I would have to look at other quali- 
ties and things, and be satisfied, before I should think of 
marriage. I do not know what I would do at last ; but 
I know what the story says.” 

"What does the story say ?” cried several. "Tell us 
the story.” 

As Flora was known to be a great story-teller, the 
young people probably thought that she would just make 
and tell a story to suit the occasion ; but she was really 
thinking of a story which she had read in the newspapers 
— a story which is apt to be reproduced in one form or 
another. 

" The story,” said Flora, " is this ; A lady on shipboard 
had four lovers. She wished to marry one of them, but 
not being able to make a choice, she referred the matter 
to the captain. He advised her to jump overboard, and 
marry the man who should rescue her. She accepted his 
advice, and jumped overboard; and, behold ! three of her 
lovers instantly plunged into the sea. When all had 
been brought on deck, the lady was as much puzzled as 
before, and again sought the captain’s advice. * Marry 
the dry one,’ he said ; and she did.” 

" One thing is certain,” Mr. Branley remarked ; " men 
and women may exhibit great heroism, and perform most 
generous deeds, and yet fail to make pleasant companions 
in married life.” 

" How do you know all that ? ” asked Jenny. " Do you 
speak from experience, Mr. Branley?” 


118 


KONNEATJTT LAKE. 


"Oh, no, Miss Jenny,” he replied. "I have learned 
nothing from experience. I have learned a little from 
observation. And I have, perhaps, learned more from a 
story.” 

" Tell the story,” shouted many voices. 

Mr. Branley was thinking of a story which, like 
Flora’s, is apt to make a fresh appearance now and then. 
He believed that it was, at least, philosophically true, or 
presented a phenomenon which often occurs in real life. 
He proceeded to tell the story : 

' " A ship was wrecked at sea, the boats were lost, and 
the crew and passengers were in great peril. It was be- 
lieved that a good swinimer had a chance of reaching the 
shore, but that the women, and all unable to swim, were 
doomed to certain destruction. A young couple, recently 
married, stood on the deck of the sinking vessel. The 
husband was an expert swimmer, and, therefore, had the 
means of saving himself ; but he clung to his wife, and 
she clung to him. He clasped her in his arms, declaring 
that they would sink and perish together. Unexpectedly, 
all were saved. A few weeks afterwards, the loving, 
devoted pair had a quarrel about some petty matter, 
parted in anger, and never met again.” 

"We’ll take a different course,” said Jane. "We’ll , 
not pretend to be brave, for I am sure we are not. Each 
one will save himself or herself, if possible. Then I 
must say that it would be better that one should be saved 
than two drowned, and better that two should be drowned 
than two saved to fight and bite afterwards.” 

The young men listened and laughed, but said nothing. 

"Bravery is a good thing when needed,” remarked 
Flora. "A good temper is a good thing all the time. 
In my opinion, bravery has much value, but a sweet 
temper has more. Unfortunately, it is easier to be brave 
than sweet-tempered.” 


ANOTHER VISIT. 


119 


The young men listened, but they did not laugh. Nor 
did they speak. However, they had some thoughts ; and 
the leading thought was probably this : " Flora is a sensi- 
ble girl.” 

The young people were certainly not in a hurry to re- 
turn home. They moved back and forward, changed 
their course, rested, fanned themselves, talked unceas- 
ingly and laughed pretty often. * They entered another 
pretty cove, which was now pleasantly shaded by the 
great hemlocks. They stopped awhile, and enjoyed the 
coolness of the place. They attempted to catch a fish, 
and failed. They approached the shore, searched the 
mossy bank, peered among the trees, but saw no naiads, 
or fairies, or witches, or porcupines, or owls, or anything 
that could either amuse or alarm them. Warned by the 
position of the sun behind the great dark forest, they 
separated their crafts, moved out into the lake, and then 
steadily pursued one course. 

The party reached the shore at the proper time, sepa- 
rated, and, excepting Mr. Branley, went to their respec- 
tive homes. Next day, Mr. Branley, delighted with his 
visit, carrying with him a thousand pleasant memories, 
left the neighborhood. At Mr. Calvert’s, the old life con- 
tinued without any visible change. 


CHAPTER XV. 

ANOTHER VISIT. 

When September came, John Branley thought that he 
had some business at Konneautt Lake, and he thought 
that the business required immediate attention. His 
professed business was to engage a winter school. His 


120 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


real business was to see Flora Calvert. Now, Mr. Bran- 
ley was a young man who never neglected his business, 
and never postponed the performance of a present duty. 

One afternoon, John Branley, being, as he may have 
pretended, on his way to Evansburgh, happened to stop 
at Mrs. Calvert’s. As he approached the house he 
looked into the garden ; but he saw no roses, and he 
saw no lady. He walked into the house, met the old 
lady and received the usual welcome, but did not see 
Flora. He learned that Charley and his sister had gone 
to the lake, and might not return before night. Refusing 
to sit down, he hurried away towards Evansburgh. He 
hoped that he would meet the young folks returning ; but 
he did not. He reached the town, walked along the 
street, spoke to acquaintances as he met them, and looked 
for Flora, but failed to see her. He continued his walk 
until he reached the bank of the lake, then paused, and 
looked, not at the expanse of water, but at the street and 
houses directly in front. No lady was visible anywhere. 
Suddenly, he heard the notes of a flute. The music was 
soft and sweet enough, but it startled the young man. 
His eyes instantly glanced over the lake. He saw a skiff 
three or four hundred yards from the shore ; and he saw, 
plainly, that the skiff contained two persons, a gentle- 
man and a lady. " Who are they ? ” was his mental in- 
quiry. He recollected that Henry Stafford was the only 
good flute-player in the neighborhood, and concluded at 
once that Stafford was the gentleman who sat in the skiff 
and produced the sweet melody. "Who is the lady?” 
That was the question now asked, and earnestly con- 
sidered, by the youth who stood on the bank. The lady 
was too far away to be recognized ; but Branley had a 
suspicion — one that was painful, indeed almost agonizing 
— that the lady was Flora Calvert. This girl was very 
dear to him now. He had begun, during the summer, to 


ANOTHER VISIT. 


12i 


regard her as his own, and how could he surrender her to 
another ? 

The sun was setting ; shadows spread over the w^ater ; 
even twilight began to obscure the face of the world. 
Branley stood and watched the skiff. Sometimes, ap- 
parently, it advanced, then retreated, moving on a line 
parallel with the shore. Sometimes the player touched 
his instrument ; and, in the calm evening, his notes 
floated sweetly over the water, and could be distinctly 
heard by people in the town. At length, Branley looked 
around. Several persons were standing near, apparently 
listening to the music. He saluted them, but asked no 
questions respecting the lady about whom he felt so much 
concern. Presently, Charles Calvert came up, and took 
a position among the group of listeners. Branley recog- 
nized his friend, took his hand, but did not inquire for 
Flora — in fact, scarcely spoke at all. Perhaps by this 
time articulation had become a difficult matter. 

At last, the skiff turned and moved in the direction of 
the landing. Charles and the other persons engaged in 
conversation. Branley still watched the skiff. It was 
now approaching the shore — slowly, indeed ; still it was 
certainly approaching. The agitated youth began to in- 
quire, mentally, "Shall I stay? or shall I fly ? ” While 
he was thinking and hesitating, the skiff struck the shore. 
A gentleman and lady stepped out on the beach and 
walked up the hill. Branley looked, and saw Henry 
Stafford and Flora Calvert ! His philosophy fled. His 
resolution — the resolution never to allow himself to feel 
disappointment and distress whatever should happen — 
failed utterly in this emergency. Indeed, he felt, at the 
moment, something like a sharp, excruciating pang of 
jealousy. Or, if not jealousy, it was, at any rate, a 
great, intolerable anguish. He felt at the moment — 
and surely that was misery enough — that he had lost the 


122 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


hope and joy of his life. But what had happened? How 
did he know that anything had been lost ? Why should 
he have been crushed to the earth? Flora recognized 
him instantly, offered her hand, spoke kindly and sweetly, 
and, no dpubt, smiled, though he was not able, in the 
growing darkness, to discern clearly the expression of her 
face. Henry and Flora immediately separated ; Flora 
joined Charley, and the brother and sister, bidding good 
evening to the persons around, started for their home. 
But Flora, turning, said to Mr. Branley, as Charles had 
said previously, " We’ll expect to see you at our house 
before you leave the neighborhood.” 

Mr. Branley lodged in town with a friend. He had 
not a comfortable sleep. He had no pleasant dreams. 
He lay awake for hours, and indulged in painful reflec- 
tions. " How different is this visit from the other ! ” he 
thought. ” During that visit a great joy filled my heart ; 
hope brightened the universe. Now, my heart is torn 
with anguish, and life and nature are shrouded in dark- 
ness.” One thing kept him from utter despair and misery. 
It was this : ” W e’ll expect to see you at our house before 
you leave.” If Mr. Branley had not heard these words, 
it is probable that he would never have seen Flora Calvert 
again, and would not have taught a second term at Kon- 
neautt Lake. A man’s destiny is determined sometimes 
by a word — sometimes by a look. 

Next day, possessed with doubts, fears, and perplexi- 
ties, but remembering Flora’s kind intimation that a visit 
would be expected, the young man called at Mrs. Cal- 
vert’s. He saw no change in the girl. He received the 
usual hearty welcome ; he heard the same sweet, bird-like 
tones of voice ; and he saw — he felt sure this time — the 
beautiful smile that had so often filled his heart with 
rapture and inspired it with hope. The delighted youth 
indulged in a soliloquy somewhat like this : "I have been 


A COMEDY. 


128 


playing the fool. I had no cause for jealousy. Why 
could not Henry and Flora take a little sail without dis- 
tressing me or any one ? Then I have resolved not to rest 
my life and happiness on any woman. I have resolved 
not to interfere with the happiness of others. I have re- 
solved to be a man, — nay, to be a Christian, to do right, 
to accept, with cheerfulness, whatever is ailoted me, in 
the present life, by a wise and kind Providence. I must 
be myself again.” But here was a psychological phenom- 
enon which may deserve attention. The young man’s 
peace and happiness restored his philosophy ; his phi- 
losophy did not restore his peace and happiness. Flora’s 
hearty welcome and beautiful smile accomplished the 
whole blessed result, first restoring the lost peace and 
happiness, and then restoring the lost philosophy. It 
may be inferred that it is easy for us to be philosophers 
and professed Christians when life is prosperous. It may 
be inferred that adversity will try the strength and worth 
of our philosophy and our religion. 

The winter school was formally tendered to Mr. Bran- 
ley, and was formally accepted by him. While returning 
home, though he did not feel the gladness and buoyancy 
which he experienced in June, he tried to persuade him- 
self that the object of his visit was fully gained. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A COMEDY. 

John Branley began his second term. The skies 
were bright now. He had the promise of good wages. 
He boarded at one place, and had very pleasant accom- 
modations. No one proposed rules for the government 


124 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


of the school. The scholars had a fresh supply of books, 
and apparently entered upon their studies with proper 
spirit and resolution. The teacher was happy. Flora 
Calvert, it is true, was not a scholar, her school-days 
being over ; but he could see her at church, or at a party, 
or at a singing-school ; and when opportunities were 
wanting or too far apart, a short and pleasant walk 
enabled him to see her at home. As the teacher often 
needed exercise, and as a walk in the ojx^n air was the 
best he could secure, a walk to Mrs. Calvert’s occurred 
almost every Saturday afternoon, and not unfrequently at 
other times. He usually found the girl whom he wished 
to see. Sometimes he found her sewing. Sometimes he 
found her at the "big wheel,” spinning wool, flying back 
and forward, and making a hum, as if, indeed, she had 
been a humming-bird. Once or twice he had a glimpse 
of her at the wash-tub, her sleeves rolled up and her 
white, round arms exposed. However employed. Flora 
was always beautiful and interesting, and always filled 
his heart with the most pleasurable emotions. In his 
interviews with this young lady, Mr. Branley was always 
respectful, polite, and decorous. 

It happened that singing-schools were scarce this 
winter. Perhaps teachers did not offer their services. 
Perhaps money was not abundant and teachers could not 
be readily paid. Perhaps the young people had become 
tired of singing, and were disposed to find some other 
source of amusement. Several young men, Mr. Branley 
being one of them, proposed the formation of a literary 
society. There had been, almost every winter, a debat- 
ing society at Evansburgh. The town and neighborhood 
contained some famous debaters. Mr. Flint, the black- 
smith, was one. Mr. Dunbar, a carpenter, and a 
preacher of some kind, was another. Among a younger 
class of men, Mr. Stafford and Mr. Bowditch were con- 


A COMEDY. 


125 


spicuous as ready talkers. The old debaters favored the 
new movement ; and a meeting was appointed with a view 
to the adoption of a constitution and by-laws. The 
meeting was held, and complete success crowned its 
deliberations. Near the close of the meeting, Mr. Bran- 
ley offered a resolution which excited some interest. The 
resolution invited the ladies to attend the meetings of the 
society. Mr. Branley said that he wished to provide, for 
the people of Evansburgh and vicinity, a source of inno- 
cent amusement, and also an additional means of acquir- 
ing useful knowledge. The young men, not doubting 
their ability to amuse and instruct the ladies and all 
others, supported the resolution enthusiastically ; the 
elderly men offered no objections ; and the resolution was 
adopted with entire unanimity. 

It must be admitted that Mr. Branley, in offering and 
advocating his resolution, did not mention the special 
object which he had in view. He wished to see Flora 
Calvert on Tuesday evening as well as on Saturday after- 
noon. At the same time, he proposed to make a strong 
effort to win her admiration or most favorable opinion. 
He believed that Flora had a keen intellect and an aspir- 
ing nature, and could not possibly be pleased with a man 
who was not bright, intelligent, and ambitious. He be- 
lieved that he could show himself to advantage in an 
intellectual encounter, or prove to Flora that he had 
talents, that he had oratorical gifts, that he could be a 
statesman, that he could be anything or do anything. 
He knew that he already had her respect, and he felt 
pretty sure that, if he could win her admiration, he would 
ultimately win her heart. Such were some of Mr. 
Branley’s secret thoughts and purposes. But if these had 
been known, would he not have received the congratula- 
tions of the wise and good? Happy is the youth who 
earnestly desires the esteem and affection of an intelligent 


126 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


and virtuous woman. Prosperous and noble will prob- 
ably be the career of the man, who, meeting such a 
woman, makes a strong and persistent effort to merit, to 
win, to retain, her admiration and love. 

No ladies were present at the first meeting. Perhajis 
the question chosen for discussion did not suit them. 
The question was this : " Can spirit exist independently 
of matter? ” It is a fact that questions which are now fre- 
quently brought forward by sceptics, and which are dis- 
cussed by scientists, metaphysicians, and theologians, 
were discussed, many years ago, in a small country vil- 
lage. And it is a fact that some of the debaters were 
able, even in the treatment of the most abstruse ques- 
tions, to speak with great fluency, if not with great logi- 
cal power. Mr. Flint, the famous orator, confessed that 
he could not get a satisfactory hold of the difficult sub- 
ject ; but Mr. Dunbar seemed to grasp it with ease, and 
to overwhelm the materialists with an avalanche of solid 
arguments. 

Mr. Branley was satisfied with his share of the discus- 
sion, but he was not satisfied with the audience. He had 
played the orator for nothing; and then, while his argu- 
ment w'as good, he knew that it might have been very 
much better. He felt sure that the presence of the ladies 
would have operated as a mighty stimulus, insuring, on 
his part, the grandest display of both logic and oratory. 
Determined to bring out the ladies next time, he pro- 
posed the following question : ” Is beauty a greater power 
than wit?” The question was adopted, and speakers 
were selected and arranged. During the following two 
or three days the young men were distinguished for enter- 
prise and industry. Their efforts, however, were not, in 
all cases, in the field of investigation and study. The 
majority simply went around from house to house, an- 
nouncing the interesting question, and soliciting the 


A COMEDY, 


127 


presence of the ladies at the next meeting of the 
society. 

Branley was one of the few who endeavored to master 
the question and accumulate arguments. He employed 
his spare hours in reading and thinking. And not un- 
frequently, during school hours, he foigot his duties and 
began to think about the comparative influence of beauty 
and wit. He looked around for information. He ex- 
plored the village library; he found Cook’s Voyage 
Around the World, the Bride of Lammermuir, and a few 
other histories and romances ; but he did not find one 
scientific work, or a volume that could supply any special 
aid. However, Dr. Marsden’s library supplied a few 
scientific facts. In making his preparations for the intel- 
lectual battle, Mr. Branley was compelled to rely, in a 
great measure, on his former reading, and on his fancy 
and power of invention. 

When the important hour had arrived the house was 
full of people. A large number of young ladies were 
present. Mr. Branley glanced along a row of fair dam- 
sels and saw Flora Calvert. He was inspired. He felt 
equal to the great occasion. He longed for the moment 
when he could display himself, intellectually, before his 
lady-love. In the age of chivalry, a knight was wonder- 
fully stimulated by the presence of a fine lady, and made 
prodigious efforts to win her favor. More recent times 
have exhibited conduct which, to say the least, is equally 
worthy of notice and approval. Mr. Branley, one 
evening, engaged in an intellectual tournament ; before 
him sat a country girl, simple in her attire, but with a 
bright face and keen discernment, and with a heart more 
to be prized than a crown and a kingdom ; and the young 
man made prodigious efforts to win her admiration. 

It happened that several of the old debaters were 
absent. The discussion rested chiefly on Mr. Branley, 


128 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


who supported the affirmative, or the side of beauty, and 
on Mr. Bowditch, who maintained the negative, or the 
side of wit. Mr. Bowditch was five or six years older 
than his opponent. He had read books, and he had seen 
a small part of the world. He was troubled with per- 
sonal vanity; but he had, no doubt, some general knowl- 
edge and some talent as a debater. While never con- 
fessing his ignorance in regard to anything, he evidently 
prided himself on his acquaintance with some branches of 
natural philosophy. There were three or four speakers 
on each side, and most of them spoke twice. Mr. Bran- 
ley opened and closed the discussion. Speeches delivered, 
more than half a century ago, by young men who had 
some education and talents, and unbounded ambition, 
might, if reproduced, truly deserve a place among the 
"curiosities of literature.” Two speeches, viz., the clos- 
ing speech of Mr. Bowditch and the closing speech of 
Mr. Branley, with their mistakes, exaggerations and no 7 i 
sequitiu's, as well as their sense and logic, will be given, 
in a condensed form, as far as may be possible. 

Mr. Bowditch’s argument was this : "The effect of 
beauty is a bodily sensation. The effect of wit is 51 last- 
ing impression on the mind. Men may walk among 
beautiful objects — for instance, beautiful women — see 
a thousand charms, and yet be indifferent, or act as if they 
saw nothing. Let me explain. An external object pro- 
duces an image on the retina of the eye, but may make 
no impression on the brain, and, consequently, produce no 
effect in the mind. Beauty is addressed to the eye ; it will, 
perhaps, produce an image on the retina ; but the image may 
be carried no farther, or it may be speedily effaced : in 
consequence, the effect on the brain, mind and affections, 
may be nothing at all. But wit makes a deep and lasting 
impression. It is addressed to the understanding. Wit 
does not stop in the ear as beauty stops in the eye. It 


A COMEDY, 


129 


passes directly through the ear and reaches the brain, 
producing great mental results. Wit is real, solid sense, 
made keen, sharp, penetrating, and, therefore, fitted to 
reach the brain and the mind. Beauty is dumb, but wit 
speaks ; wit is sparkling sense ; wit is a stream of intelli- 
gence ; it necessarily reaches the mind of the listener and 
influences the feelings. An image of beauty fades away 
from the retina : usually, when the external object is 
withdrawn, the image vanishes, and there is no further 
effect. But wit impresses the substance of the brain, 
and, therefore, causes results of a most durable nature. 
Beauty, long seen, becomes uninteresting, is not beauty, 
is nothing, effects nothing. Wit never ceases to sparkle, 
never ceases to give delight, never ceases to attract and 
influence mankind, never ceases to be a great power in 
society. The wits of the world are the rulers of the 
world. My conclusion is, that the effect of beauty is 
superficial and transient, and that the effect of wit is 
deep and permanent. As thought is a greater power 
than a bodily sensation, so wit is a greater power than 
beauty.” 

Such was Mr. Bowditch’s argument. It was delivered 
in a calm and serious manner ; it was not copiously illus- 
trated by references to history, but it seemed to be based 
on scientific principles ; and it probably made some im- 
pression on the audience. Perhaps some persons regarded 
the argument as conclusive. 

Mr. Branley rose and spoke as follows : ” I must first 
notice my opponent’s argument and correct some of his 
mistakes. The effect of beauty is more than a bodily 
sensation. It belongs to the mind. It is perception ; it 
is appreciation ; it is enjoyment, — all being mental 
processes or states. God creates beauty, and prepares the 
mind to perceive, appreciate, and enjoy it. An image of 
beauty does not lodge in the eye, making no further ad- 


130 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


vance. All the organs of sensation are connected with 
the brain. The eye is as near the brain as the ear. To 
say the least, an image of beauty can reach the mind as 
readily as the most sparkling witticism. Nor is the image 
of beauty easily effaced from the mind. Physiologists 
tell us that external objects produce corresponding images 
on the retina of the eye ; that the images may remain, at 
least for a time ; that the images on the retina make cor- 
responding impressions on the brain ; that the impressions 
may remain, at least for a time, even when the external 
objects are withdrawn from the eye and the images are 
withdrawn from the retina. Of course, when there are 
impressions on the brain, there will be impressions on the 
mind. But the mental impressions will outlast the cere- 
bral. The mental will be immortal, like the mind itself, 
and will be a power forever. Memories, especially of 
beautiful things, never fade, never perish. And the 
mind, remembering an external object, especially a beau- 
tiful object — for instance, a beautiful woman — can 
impress the image of that object on the brain and the 
retina, and give it the appearance and power of an exter- 
nal reality. Thus a beautiful woman, whether present or 
absent, may be always seen and admired, and may reign 
in the heart. 

”The eye,” said Mr. Branley, who had studied logic 
slightly and knew some of its terms, ”may supply an a 
priori argument. The eye gives us a view or knowledge 
of the material universe. The eye discovers all beauties, 
— the beauty of earth and sky, — the beauty of land and 
sea, mountain, river, forest and cultivated plain, — the 
beauty of form and color, of proportion and symmetry, of 
designs and adaptations. The eye gives to man the con- 
ception or idea of external beauty, and makes that idea a 
'joy forever.’ The eye is confessedly more important than 
the ear. Are not the achievements of this organ greater 


A COMEDY. 


131 


than the achievements of the other? Or, whicli is 
virtually the same question, Is not beauty a greater power 
than wit? 

"But a sense of the beautiful actually moves the world. 
It causes men and women to traverse the earth and gaze 
at natural objects. It settles the architecture of temples, 
palaces, and millions of human dwellings. It superin- 
tends the garden, the field, the landscape, in all civilized 
countries. It inspires and moves the painter, the poet, 
— in fact, the artist of every kind. The world is full of 
pictures, descriptive poems, and other beautiful things, 
wrought by the hand or mind, but resulting from a sense 
of the beautiful. Even the machinist is controlled by this 
sense. Works of utility have the most elegant forms and 
the most complete finish. And who can measure the 
pleasure afforded by the beauties of Nature and the beau- 
ties of art ? The power of beauty in producing beautiful 
things, and in giving pleasure to mankind, is beyond con- 
ception. 

"The beauty of man has ever been recognized as a 
power. His erect form, his stately step, his majestic 
countenance, are confessedly the beauty and glory of the 
material creation. Man himself has a regard for the 
form and beauty of man. The beasts that roam the 
forests and the deserts, quail before the majesty of his 
person and the brilliancy of his eye. Woman, especially, 
as we all know and admit, is beautiful. Her beauty is 
the object of countless panegyrics. It is the inspiration of 
genius. It is the theme of poetry. It is the attraction, 
the light, the life, of romances. It is a great topic in all 
history. It has been described, if not extolled, by proph- 
ets and apostles. It has been named thousands of times 
when wit was not mentioned once. It has been worshiped 
by millions when wit was worshiped by none. It has 
given inspiration, purpose, impulse, energy, to men 


132 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


without number, — to men of the greatest abilities, and 
men of the highest positions. It has produced conten- 
tion, revolution, war, bloodshed, among the potentates 
and nations of the earth. At the same time, it has ruled 
among the masses, elevating and ennobling thousands, or 
producing the highest state of culture and refinement in 
society, as well as sometimes leading to jealousy, conten- 
tion, and misery. The beauty of woman is the supreme 
power of the world. 

"The physical weakness of woman may supply an 
a priori argument. Woman is — must be — the equal 
of man. But how? She is inferior to man in stature 
and in strength. And while I cheerfully grant that 
woman is usually endowed with good sense, I do not con- 
cede that, in wit or brightness and power of mind, she 
has an indisputable claim to superiority. Then the wit 
of woman is apt to neutralize itself. If it is sharp, it 
wounds and hurts ; if it attracts, it also repels. If it 
wins, it often loses. Wit, then, is not the great quality 
which compensates woman for her physical weakness. 
Beauty is, must be, the compensation. Woman has 
much beauty ; man has comparatively little. Beauty 
makes her his equal; in fact, makes her more, — makes 
woman a sovereign and man her obedient servant, if not 
her slave. 

" Let us make an appeal to history. Beautiful women 
have always ruled the world. The Bible often speaks of 
beautiful women and their great influence. The beauty 
of Sarah, the wife of Abraham, was a cause of great 
anxiety to the patriarch. When Jacob visited his cousins 
he was fascinated, not by the wit of Leah, but by the 
beauty of Rachel. Such was the power of Rachel’s 
charms, that seven years of waiting seemed to be only a 
few days. What subdued and controlled Ahasuerus, the 
mighty king of Persia? Nqt the wit and cunning of 


A COMEDY. 


133 


Haman, not the wit, good sense, and modesty of Vashti, 
but the beauty of Esther. What charmed, ensnared, and 
ruined, the wisest man and the greatest monarch whom 
the world ever saw? Beautiful, bad women. 

'' But what is taught by profane history ? Over all the 
world, beautiful women have been the divinities worshiped 
by men. Witty women have not been worshiped : they 
have been rather feared and shunned. Seldom, or never, 
have men fallen down and worshiped wit ; but men with- 
out number — kings, conquerors, orators, philosophers, 
as well as common men — have fallen down and wor- 
shiped beauty. May I name Cleopatra? She did not 
possess extraordinary wit, yet she enslaved Mark An- 
tony, the great Roman, and many others. Beauty gave 
to this bad woman her dominion over the thoughts and 
hearts of men. What ruled France and its kings through 
so many centuries? Not wit, not sense, not virtue, not 
the Divine Law, nor human law. What then? The 
beauty of women. What caused the whole world to 
mourn over the fate of Mary, queen of Scots? Was it 
the suffering of an innocent woman ? Was it the untimely 
extinction of a bright intelligence ? W as it the loss of a 
brilliant wit ? No. It was the sudden, final disappear- 
ance of transcendent beauty. 

"Let us appeal to experience. The fact is, we are all 
attracted and governed by beauty, or by what is beauty to 
us. A mother’s face is beautiful. To each of us it is the 
face of an angel. Calmly and lovingly it looks upon us, 
fills our hearts with tender emotions, and incites us to a 
life of virtue and honorable effort. Who forgets a moth- 
er’s face ? Who ceases to be influenced by its loving 
gaze? A sister’s face — that thoughtful, gentle face, 
showing so much affection for us, showing so much in- 
terest in our welfare, expressing so much delight when we 
are happy, and so much sympathy when we are in trouble 


134 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


— is very, very beautiful. And has it not power? Base 
and insensible must be the man who is not touched and 
moved by the face of a sister. And then, the face of a 
sweetheart ! a face with its dimples, and roses, and beam- 
ing eyes, and smile divine ! a face expressive of innocence, 
purity, intelligence and love ! That face speaks and tells 
everything. That face satisfies the eye and the heart. 
And is that face forgotten? Never. Does it cease to 
have power? No. That face, present literally, or with 
its image in the mind, will never cease to give pleasure, 
encouragement, and strength. Such, gentlemen, is our 
experience. And the experience of all who are not sunk 
below the level of humanity is the same. Womanhood, 
comprising, more or less, the beauty of form and face, 
and associated with virtue, modesty and kindness, im- 
parts to men their highest pleasure, and tends greatly to 
purify and ennoble their lives. Indeed, the moral beauty 
of fair, intelligent, virtuous women, as all admit, is the 
saving influence in society.” 

Thus far, Mr. Branley exercised complete self-control, 
and spoke calmly and prudently. In fact, he was just 
rehearsing parts of a speech which had been carefully 
written and committed to memory. If he had now closed 
his remarks and sat down, no comedy, or tragedy, or 
whatever name it may bear, would have followed. But, 
at last, having appealed to the gentlemen, he turned and 
appealed to the ladies. From that moment, as people 
said afterwards, he lost his equilibrium. He was seized 
by an uncontrollable excitement or enthusiasm. And he 
felt irresistibly disposed to give expression to fancies that 
were utterly grotesque and ridiculous. Commonly, this 
young man was very sedate and quiet, and very guarded 
in the use of words. But he had a susceptible nature, 
and sometimes, as happened during the excursion on the 
lake, excitement obtained the mastery and produced some 


A COMEDY. 


135 


extravagance both in words and actions. On this occasion 
the circumstances were truly exciting. The question itself 
awakened attention and interest. Then, Mr. Branley felt 
that he had an able opponent and that he must, like law- 
yers and politicians, employ every sort of means in order 
to win a victory. Then, quite near, sat a long row of 
beauties, listening eagerly to the praises of beauty ; and 
then, in the midst of those pretty and eager listeners, sat 
Flora Calvert, the prettiest and most eager of all. Per- 
haps there was some excuse for the young man’s hyper- 
boles. 

"Ladies,” exclaimed the orator, "I appeal to you. 
We, young men, have candidly confessed that beauty 
captures bur hearts and rules our lives. Is not your ex- 
perience slightly similar to ours? Men have, or may 
have, beauty — a beauty which belongs to their sex. 
What attracts the notice and excites the admiration of 
women? Manly beauty. And now, ladies, permit me 
to mention two facts which you can easily verify, and 
which will decide the question before us. One fact is 
this : I have wit, and my friend here, Mr. Bowditch, has 
beauty ; or, to state the fact in another form, I have no 
beauty, and my friend has no wit. Mr, Bowditch virtu- 
ally admits that he has no understanding. How often 
did you hear him say, ' I don’t understand Mr. Branley ! ’ 
Now, as the judges, and all others who have common 
sense, understand me perfectly, it follows that an under- 
standing cannot be one of his endowments. It is true 
that, at the beginning of the discussion, Mr. Bowditch 
claimed that he had some ideas. Have any appeared? 
No. As he presented no ideas, when ideas were so much 
needed, it may be presumed that he had none. But my 
friend, as I have said, has beauty. No one doubts this ; 
no one denies it. I proceed to mention the second fact. 
It is this : With my best efforts, solid argument, splendid 


136 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


metaphors, and flashing witticisms, I have scarcely secured 
your attention, and have made little or no impression on 
your minds ; but Mr. Bovvditch stood before you as an 
Apollo or Adonis, and his beauty — his beauty alone — 
fixed your attention and secured your favor ; and, ladies, 
at this moment, as I observe, you are gazing at Mr. 
Bowditch, while his beauty is exciting in your miods both 
admiration and rapture. Mr. Bowditch’s beauty, thus 
vanquishing my wit, practically decides the question, and 
gives me a victory. But, alas ! what signifies my gain 
if, while I gain a decision from the judges, 1 lose the 
admiration and favor of the ladies ! And what signifies 
my friend’s loss, if, while he loses the decision, he gains 
the admiration and favor of lovely woman ! ” * 

Mr. Branley closed the argument. The speech was 
followed by general silence. If demonstrations of ap- 
proval had been common in those days, the young men 
might have cheered and the young women might have 
waved their handkerchiefs. The judges, three in number, 
consulted together a minute or two, and unanimously 
agreed that, in view of the arguments, the question 
should be decided in favor of beauty. 

The society adjourned, and the ladies retired. Mr. 
Branley remained in the house to transact some business 
pertaining to the school. He felt pretty comfortable ; 
lalthough he was not sure that his performance had made 
a good impression on Flora’s mind, or on the mind of 
any other girl. He had won the favorable decision of the 
judges, and that was something — enough, in fact, to 
give him much real pleasure. But, oh ! how uncertain 
are human affairs ! How fleeting, sometimes, are self- 
gratulations ! The comedy was past, and now came a 
small tragedy ; or was it the comedy continued with some 
variation — the comedy in a new act? Mr. Bowditch 
was deeply offended. He was perfectly furious. Trem- 


A C03IFDY, 


137 


bling with rage, and displaying a pair of fists, he ap- 
proached the offender, and wanted to demonstrate, not 
the superiority of his wit or his beauty, but the superi- 
ority of his muscles. Mr. Branley explained, apologized, 
declared that he was only jesting, — affirmed that the 
debate had been getting a little dull, — that some of the 
girls began to look drowsy, — that he wished to waken 
them up ; and he begged Mr. Bowditch to wait till the 
next Tuesday evening, and then repay, with double inter- 
est, the seeming ridicule and sarcasm. 

While thus talking and pleading, Branley reached the 
door, and escaped for the moment. As he entered the main 
street, he was overtaken by the raging, unappeasable 
man. He then sought protection in a tailor’s shop, and 
Bowditch walked back and forward on the outside, raging, 
shouting, stamping, and bantering. At last, having 
relieved himself by this burst of passion, or having grown 
uncomfortably cool in the frosty air, he retired, giving 
Branley an opportunity to proceed to his boarding- 
house. 

Mr. Branley felt deeply mortified ; he suspected that 
he had been imprudent, if, indeed, he had not made him- 
self ridiculous ; and he had some fear of public and 
general disapprobation.- However, the people, learning 
the facts, were simply amused; they regarded the debate, 
especially the closing part, as a nice little comedy ; and 
many laughed heartily at the denouement. Contrary 
to Branley ’s expectation, no one sympathized with Bow- 
ditch. "If he had not been so conceited, he would have 
taken no offense,” said one man. "The balloon has col- 
lapsed,” said another. " Shorn of his vanity, he will be 
improved,” said a third. Squire Bluffton, meeting Mr. 
Branley, remarked, "A debate is a debate, and must be 
accompanied by pleasantries, witticisms, and sharp repar- 
tees. If a debate has not these accompaniments, it will 


]38 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


probably be very dull and uninteresting. Then every 
man has a tongue, and it may be used for both offensive 
and defensive purposes. If a man cannot defend himself 
with his tongue, without having recourse to bodily vio- 
lence, he should never eno:ao:e in an aro-ument.” While 
a few persons may have reproached Mr. Branley for not 
fighting the madman, the great majority of the people, 
overlooking his imprudence, if they saw any, praised him 
for his self-control, forbearance and honorable conduct. 

The young man, who was at once an orator and a lover, 
could not see that his eloquence, or his continued and 
marked attentions, had won any special regard from Flora 
Calvert. Yet he thou2:ht the ” situation” favorable. 
Flora was never distant and cold in her manners. Be- 
sides, there seemed to be an open field for effort. Tom 
McConnell had disappeared, — that is, was no longer 
seen among her admirers and suitors. Henry Stafford, 
having established business at another place, was often 
absent from Evansburgh ; and there was no apparent 
intimacy or regard subsisting between him and Miss Flora. 
Mr. Branley was hopeful and happy. lie did not now 
formally and urgently press his suit ; but he never forgot 
or neglected a chance of seeing Flora, and showing the 
interest which he felt in her life and welfare. 

But if the young man had fully known and believed 
certain reports, he would not have been so comfortable. 
These reports related to George Lambrun and Flora Cal- 
vert. In the beginning of this winter Lambrun made a 
renewed, strenuous, persistent effort to win Miss Flora; 
and some people began to think that he was making suc- 
cessful advances. 

Flora’s considerate friends became alarmed. Her 
mother felt very uneasy. The dashing suitor was a 
stranger. He was handsome. He was plausible and in- 
sinuating in his manners. And, at the same time, there 


A COMEDY. 


139 


v/na no limit to his boldness and assurance. Flora’s 
friends, therefore, regarded him as a dangerous man, and 
had serious apprehensions in respect to her future happi- 
ness. 

Mrs. Patton made a visit to Mrs. Hall one day. 
These women were neighbors and friends of the Calvert 
family, and felt a great interest in Flora’s welfare. 
Their conversation was chiefly about Flora and her new 
suitor. 

''If Flora shows him favor,” Mrs. Patton remarked, using 
her Irish dialect, " it will be just what has happened a thou- 
sand times. Girls are very apt to be caught by strangers. 
They may care nothing for old acquaintances ; but if a 
handsome stranger comes around, he is sure to catch their 
eyes ; and if he tries and is cunning, he is sure to inveigle 
some poor girl into marriage ; and misery is her portion. 
Who can forget Betsy Graham ? Sam Purdy came to see 
his friends. He was tall and handsome. He saw Betsy, 
courted and married her. He is an idle, drunken, worth- 
less fellow ; and poor Betsy, as you and I know well, 
spends her life in poverty and wretchedness. Oh, why do 
not girls think ! ” 

"Do you know,” inquired Mrs. Hall, "that I spoke to 
Flora about this new beau, and expressed my opinions 
freely ? ” 

" No ; what did she say ? ” 

"She said, laughing, 'Don’t give yourself any 
trouble.’ ” 

"Ah, that is the way ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Patton. "The 
girls think they know everything ; they think all is right ; 
they think the stranger is just what he pretends to be, 
and they throw themselves away — poor creatures ! Why 
don’t girls take advice ? Flora is sensible and prudent ; 
but I am afraid. Lambrun is just the man to deceive a 
girl, and cheat her out of her happiness and her life.” 


140 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


However, Flora Calvert did not marry the stranger. 
And, happily, Mr. Branley did not learn much about the 
fears and anxieties which prevailed among her friends. 


CHAPTER XYH. 

A TRAGEDY. 

New Year’s Day came with the promise of a great 
variety of amusements. Among them it was expected 
that sleighing, ball-playing, and skating, would be prom- 
inent. The day proved to be very favorable ; the 
weather was calm and delightful ; the roads were in fine 
order ; and the lake was covered with a sheet of freshly- 
formed, smooth, beautiful ice. What more was needed 
to make the day a perfectly happy one ? 

Well, some things were wanting. Many girls wanted 
nice winter hats or suitable dresses, and many boys' and 
young men wanted good winter clothing. Nor was that 
all. Many people had no horses and no sleighs. Many 
boys and young men had no skates, and could not pur- 
chase any, none being for sale. However, inventive 
genius and manufacturing skill were employed to supply 
the means of enjoyment. The large boys, resolving to 
make some use of the beautiful ice, planned what they 
called a flying-machine, and went to work, enthusiastically, 
to construct one in accordance with their intellectual model. 
They provided a round post or shaft, six or eight inches in 
diameter and ten or twelve feet in length. They made a 
round, smooth hole in the ice, the size corresponding with 
the size of the shaft. They inserted the shaft, placing it 
upright, the lower end resting on the bottom of the lake, 
the upper end rising above the ice seven or eight feet. 


A TRAGEDY. 


141 


They inserted in the shaft three or four slender arms. The 
uppermost arm was about twenty feet long, the outer end 
drooping. The other arms were much shorter. They 
attached a slender and very light sled to the extreme outer 
point of the long arm. And then the macliine was 
ready for business. 

At ten o’clock the lake, especially in the vicinity of 
Evansburgh, presented a most lively scene. A large 
number of people had gathered from the village and the 
country. While many stood on the bank as spectators, a 
much larger number were on the ice, engaged in their 
various amusements. In one quarter men were testing 
the speed of their horses ; though there was no betting, 
and, strictly speaking, no racing. As the ice was of un- 
certain thickness, they did not venture far from the shore. 
The men and boys who were provided with skates flew 
hither and thither, making their zigzags and graceful 
cimves, sometimes dashing among the standing groups, 
carrying away hats and bonnets, and greatly amusing the 
spectators. But the flying-machine was the great object 
of attraction. It gathered a large company of young 
men and maidens, boys and little girls. Two grown 
persons or four children were usually placed on the sled, 
three or four stout boys, seizing the short arms, turned 
the shaft, and the sled, with its rosy-cheeked and laughing 
passengers, swept around in a circle. It required a little 
eflbrt to start the machine ; but, when fairly in motion, it 
could be operated with great ease. At any rate, the boys 
v/ho turned the machine seemed to have as much pleasure 
as the folks who rode on the sled. Sometimes, when five 
or six boys grasped the short arms and worked energeti- 
cally, the sled flew around at what the children called 
" lightning speed ” ; and sometimes, when the sled was 
flying at the highest rate,* it suddenly became detached 
and flew off on a tangent, the event causing a general 


142 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


shout and a vast amount of merriment. Among the 
children there was a constant clamor or struggle for a turn 
on the sled ; and the young men and women, for an hour 
or two, stood as spectators, generously allowing the little 
folks to monopolize the rides. 

Old Susy Mosman, who lived near the lake, came out 
to look at the people engaged in their diversions. She 
found Mrs. Hall, and the two women stood together, 
looking and talking. 

"This is great sport,” said Mrs. Hall. "You and I 
have had our time ; but I take a great deal of pleasure 
now looking at the frolic of these happy young crea- 
tures.” 

"There is more than a frolic going on here,” said Mrs. 
Mosman. 

" What do you mean ? ” the other inquired. 

"See!” replied Mrs. Mosman. "There stands Mr. 
Branley and there stands Flora Calvert. Don’t they look 
alike — just like a brother and sister ? — both tall, straight, 
neat, with good features, bright eyes, and pleasant coun- 
tenances. Why, they talk alike and act alike.” 

"Well, do you mean to say they are courting?” 

"Yes, that is what I mean to say. See I They are 
standing together. He is looking at her, and she is look- 
ing at him. He smiles and she smiles. They are talk- 
ing. I wish I could hear what they are saying. But I 
can guess ; it is something pretty and sweet. I do hope 
they will make a match. I am sure they ought to marry ; 
they were made for each other.” 

" You are right, Mrs. Mosman. But I am afraid. 
George Lambrun is about. He is paying great attention 
to Flora ; and some people think she likes him. See, 
Lambrun is one of the skaters, and I half suspect that 
Flora is watching him, her eyes glancing past Mr. 
Branley.” 


A TRAGEDY. 


143 


Oh, I would like to run over to Flora and tell her 
to have nothing to do with George Lambrun. He is a 
scamp, I’ll warrant. Branley is worth more than a 
thousand Lambruns.” 

The skating, sledding, shouting and laughing, went on, 
without abatement, for several hours. The flying-machine 
proved to be what would now be called a "grand suc- 
cess.” It afforded what some children would now call 
"royal sport.” Every child had three or four turns on 
the sled, and made, each time, at least a dozen revolu- 
tions. Then, as an opportunity presented itself, a young 
man and his sweetheart occupied the sled and enjoyed an 
excursion, while many congratulated them on their smooth 
and pleasant journey through life. A very happy com- 
pany surrounded the flying-machine. Why is it that a 
machine, affording, as it may, so much healthful exercise, 
and so much innocent pleasure, is no longer seen on our 
lakes and rivers ? 

It was observed, at about one o’clock, that three of the 
skaters, moving abreast, started in the direction of Long 
Point. They were steadily watched by many persons who 
stood on the shore. "They are racing,” one man re- 
marked. "They are passing over the deepest water in 
the lake,” another said; "and the ice is thin there. I 
believe they are now very near the place where the teacher 
broke through last winter.” The skaters reached Long 
Point, and, without stopping, wheeled around, and 
apparently directed their course towards a point on the 
shore where there was a large group of people. The 
interest in the race, or whatever it was, had now become 
general and pretty strong. Even the crowd encircling 
the machine became interested, ceased operating, and 
watched the skaters, who were coming with the speed of 
the wind, or, at any rate, with tlie speed of a race-horse. 

The skaters reached the deep water. Apparently, they 


144 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


were moving abreast and closely together. Every person 
was looking. Suddenly, the skaters disappeared from 
view. A great shriek rose from the spectators. And a 
second or two afterwards a cry came over the ice. 

”They have fallen in !” shouted many voices. 

"Help ! help !” was the meaning of the cry, if not the 
cry itself, that came over the lake. 

"Run, men and boys,” cried Susy Mosman. "They’ll 
drown ! they’ll drown ! ” 

"Carry something in your hands,” shouted Dr. Mars- 
den. 

More of the fearful cries came from the water. Every 
man, and almost every boy, looked hurriedly around for 
something that would aid in the terrible emergency. One 
man seized a hayfork. Another man seized a spear- 
handle. Several men and boys picked up each a short 
board. Mr. Branley sprang into a carpenter’s shop, and 
found a long, narrow, light board — the very thing he 
wanted — seized it, and rushed for the lake. At the same 
moment a great crowd ran down the bank, and joined the 
crowd on the ice. All the young men, some elderly men, 
and many boys, ran, at their highest speed, towards the 
men struggling in the water. Branley was seen to be 
foremost, carrying his board, and many blessed him in 
their hearts. 

Another mournful cry came from the struggling men. 
All knew what it meant. At this time, the distress on 
the shore was a great throbbing agony. Old men looked 
and shuddered. Elderly women closed their eyes and 
wrung their hands. Young women stood with blanched 
cheeks and trembling forms. Little children, with pale 
faces, tearful eyes, and piteous moaning, clung to their 
mothers and older sisters. 

"See Branley !” cried Susy Mosman. "He is almost 
there — maybe he will save them yet.” 


A TRAGEDY. 


145 


"O ! I wish they would all come back,” cried Mrs. 
Patton. "They cannot save the drowning men, and they 
will be drowned themselves.” 

Meanwhile one of the struggling men succeeded in 
placing himself on ice that bore his weight. Lying flat, 
he drew himself forward, and soon felt that he was 
saved. Presently, another man had the same good for- 
tune. One was still in the water. As the men and 
boys advanced, they grew alarmed on their own account. 
They began to fear that the ice might break, and that all 
might go down and perish together. All stopped except 
Branley. Then a few, seeing him pass on safely, made a 
further advance, walking apart and very slowly. When 
these approached within fifty or sixty yards of the broken 
ice, they were thoroughly dismayed. A great field of 
broken ice was before them, and the ice beneath their feet 
seemed scarcely strong enough to bear their weight. And 
they saw poor Lambrun in the water, making desperate 
efforts to save himself. " What can we do ? ” asked one of 
the trembling men. "Nothing,” responded another; "we 
ourselves are in great danger.” They made a final stop. 

But John Branley still advanced. He had seen the 
second man creep on the ice and escape, and he now 
watched the third man struggling among the fragments. 
Again and again, Lambrun endeavored to raise himself 
on the sound ice ; again and again, the ice broke, and he 
fell back into the freezing water. Branley felt utterly 
fearless, trusting in his board and in Providence, at the 
same time using every precaution. Approaching within 
thirty or forty feet of the open water, he lay down flat on 
the ice, moved the board before him, and watched the 
struggling man. He projected the board beyond the 
edge of the unbroken ice, putting an end within Lam- 
brun’s reach. The poor man grasped the board, but was 
not able to raise himself, — indeed, seemed scarcely able 


146 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


to maintain his hold. Branley saw that the man was be- 
numbed or exhausted ; he crept upon the board, drew him- 
self forward, and endeavored to give further aid. He 
reached out beyond the edge of the ice, and his hand had 
almost touched Lambrun’s hand, when the chilled and 
exhausted man suddenly relaxed his hold, sunk and dis- 
appeared. Branley now began to think about himself, — 
saw that he was resting on ice only an inch or two thick, 
and endeavored, by slipping back on the board, to escape 
from his perilous situation. 

Boys began to run back to the shore, and one, almost 
breathless, cried out, 

” Somebody is drowned ! ” 

" Oh ! who ? ” gasped one here and there among the 
crowd. 

"Don’t know. May be Lambrun, may be our teacher, 
may be both.” 

" The Lord help us ! ” exclaimed Susy Mosman. Oth- 
ers had thoughts and emotions which could not be ex- 
pressed in words. 

Boys continued to arrive, making a similar report. 
The distress of the people was very great. A feeling of 
suspense became intolerable ; and many women sunk 
down on the snow or ice. Sobs and moans were general. 
Many of the people were thinking about Branley. Some 
were thinking about Lambrun. Others were thinking, 
though not exclusively, about a sufferer who stood on the 
bank. Mrs. Mosman and Mrs. Hall met again, grasped 
each other’s hands, and exclaimed in turn, " O poor 
Flora ! She has lost one of her lovers, and may be 
both ! ” The two women looked around to see the girl 
for whom they felt so much pity. They saw her. She 
had not sunk down; she stood — stood alone, and gazed 
over the lake. The women, though expecting to see a 
maiden in distress, were startled. They thought that 


A TRAGEDY, 


147 


death had never made a paler face than Flora’s. They 
thought that death had never made a stiller form than 
the one before them. Pale and motionless, she stood and 
gazed at a crowd of young men and boys, now rapidly 
approaching the shore. 

'' Our teacher ! our teacher ! He is there ! ” cried a 
little girl, in glad tones. 

'' The master ! the master ! Mr. Branley is not 
drowned at all,” shouted three or four boys, as they 
rushed up the bank. 

The people recognized Mr. Branley and hailed him 
with delight. IVhat Flora Calvert said or did, or what 
her face expressed, at the moment, no one observed and 
no one can tell. 

Austin and Bardwell, two of the skaters, were brought 
to the shore, but Lambrun was left in the deep, cold 
water. It seemed almost unaccountable that, while two 
escaped, Laanbrun, the most active of the three, was 
drowned. Possibly his very agility and violent efforts 
caused the continuous fracture of the ice, and brought on 
the fatal result. 

Of course there was no more amusement on that New 
Year’s Day. The afternoon was passed in sorrow. 
Lambrun had been regarded very much as a stranger, and 
perhaps had not been generally liked ; but now, every 
person grieved ; and every person spoke respectfully, 
even tenderly, of the man whose life had come to so sud- 
den and tragic a close. 

The body of the drowned man was recovered and 
decently buried. There was not much weeping at the 
funeral. But there was a general sadness in the com- 
munity. Sensitive and thoughtful people reflected that, 
somewhere in the land, there were friends — perhaps a 
mother, perhaps a sister — who, hearing that George was 
drowned in Kouneautt Lake, would shed many bitter tears. 


148 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Branley was now recognized as a hero. Everybody 
praised him. He had not saved Lambrun ; but, as all 
declared, he had made a most perilous and fearful venture 
— he had made a most heroic effort, and, therefore, de- 
served the highest honor ever bestowed on men. Old 
Susy Mosman, in particular, lavished her praises on the 
heroic youth. 

" What a noble young man ! ” she exclaimed, while 
talking to some of her neighbors. ” Did he not fly with 
his board? Did he not leave all others behind? How 
he ventured to the very edge of the frail ice ! How he 
risked his life! — risked it, too, for his rival — for the 
very man who wanted to take his sweetheart ! O, what 
does Flora think now ? She ought to be proud of her 
lover. She should most gladly give him her heart and 
her hand, and her fortune too, if she had a million 
dollars.” 

Susy Mosman and others watched Flora closely. They 
saw that she grieved for Lambrun ; but they could not 
see that her sorrow was different from ‘the sorrow of other 
people. At the same time they failed to see that Flora 
manifested an increasing regard for Mr. Branley. 


CHAPTER XYIII. 

SUCCESS. 

Xear the close of the school INIr. Branley was honored 
with a party. It was held at Squire Bluffton’s. The 
company was large, comprising elderly people as well as 
young people. Not much was said about Branley ’s heroic 
venture on the ice ; but the guests allowed themselves to 


SUCCESS. 


149 


speak freely in regard to his success as a teacher. Squire 
Bluffton indulged in a complimentary remark. 

" When we build our college we shall ask Mr. Branley 
to be the President.” 

"Be careful,” the teacher said, humorously. "I might 
fail as a President, disappoint you badly, and lose all my 
honor.” 

Mr. Flint, the blacksmith, proposing something more 
practical, observed, 

"We should engage Mr. Branley for next summer.” 

" The school-house cannot hold me much longer,” 
the teacher declared, speaking with marked emphasis. 
"When summer comes, I shall feel a strong inclination 
to be out in the open world, — in the green fields or green 
woods.” 

" Did you say, The shady woods inquired Miss Jane 
Folsom. "Do you expect to lie in the shade next sum- 
mer ? ” 

" O no. Miss Jane,” the teacher replied. "I expect to 
plow the fields, mow the meadows, and cut down the 
forests. If you should see me in the woods handling my 
bright axe, you would think the lightning was flashing 
among the trees.” 

"Well, I would like to see you, and the lightning too,” 
the girl said, mischievously. 

" Jane, would you not like to live in his cabin and cook 
his dinner? ” inquired Miss Van Arsdale. 

" Pshaw ! ” was all the answer which the young lady 
condescended to make. 

" If I were Mr. Branley,” the blacksmith observed, " I 
would go neither into the fields or the woods ; I would go 
into a law-office and study law.” 

" Your great conceit and fondness for talking would lead 
that way,” the Squire remarked, with a little pleasant 
sarcasm. 


150 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


" You are more than half wrong,” ]\Ir. Flint responded. 

I like to talk, as we all do ; but I like to do some other 
things. For instance, I like to make money. Now, the 
lawyers are the men who get it. They give three words 
of advice, and charge more than a dollar a word. They 
take a big fee to manage a little case in court. They 
take a note for collection ; the debtor comes and pays ; 
and they pocket fifty or a hundred dollars for two minutes’ 
work. Didn’t you and I, the other day, see Dan Barker 
write something on a scrap of paper, and take two dollars 
for the little job ? The lawyers have fine opportunities 
to speculate in stocks and lands. Don’t they buy up all 
the unseated lands in our county? Then, Squire, I 
would like an office. It would be far easier, as well as 
more profitable, to sit in the Legislature or in Congress 
than to shoe horses and make plowshares. Now, the 
legal profession gives a man notoriety, fitness for oflSce, 
and every advantage. Lawyers fill the Legislature and 
fill Congress. It usually takes a lawyer to be Governor, 
or President, or a Cabinet officer, or anything. There 
is Tom Murphy, with the brogue still on his tongue. 
Who would ever have thought of him as a candidate for 
Congress if he had not been a lawyer ? ” 

Thus Mr. Flint maintained his reputation as a talker. 
If he had lived at a later time he would have seen the 
lawyers achieve much greater success in filling offices and 
amassing fortunes. In particular he would have noted 
how ” statesmen,” simply by selling their votes and influ- 
ence, and by participating in various kinds of fraud, en- 
rich themselves and rob the nation — sometimes, even 
after exposure, remaining in office, if not in honor. The 
Squire, having listened patiently to the blacksmith’s 
oration, remarked, in a quiet way, 

"Mr. Flint, if you were a lawyer, you would soon 
damage your character by sharp practice. Now, character 
is better than money.” 


SUCCESS. 


151 


'' If a man has money he needs no character,” the other 
replied, Avith an air of triumph. ^'If a man has money — 
that is, enough of it — all people will be obsequious; he 
can marry the woman he wants ; and he can reach the 
highest offices and honors.” 

” AVhat will it profit a man if he shall gain the whole 
world and lose his own soul?” the Squire asked, using 
the words of Scripture. 

" You don’t mean to say that a lawyer or a rich man 
can’t be saved — do you ? ” 

”No, not just that. But the Good Book says, 'Woe 
unto you, lawyers ! ’ And I believe that denunciation 
rests on many lawyers of the present day. And the Good 
Book says, ' How hardly shall they that have riches enter 
into the kingdom of God ! ’ Riches, obtained honestly, 
would be a source of danger to most men. Riches, ob- 
tained by dishonest means, are necessarily a curse.” 

” Squire, you are in the same category with the law- 
yers and the rich men. How have you obtained your 
money ? If they are in danger, are you safe ? ” 

"There is an immense diffeionee between Justices of 
the Peace as a class and lawyers as a class. A Justice, 
initiating a suit, takes no side. He hears and weighs 
testimony ; he carefully applies the law ; he decides in 
accordance with his best judgment. For compensation 
he takes, when he can get it, just what the law allows. 
Have I enriched myself, Mr. Flint? Do you fancy that 
a house and lot in town and three small out-lots make me 
a rich man? Noav, look at the lawyer. He takes the 
side of the man Avho first applies, or, as it may happen, 
the side of the man who offers the largest fee ; half the 
time or more he has the wrong side ; and, having that 
side, makes a great effort, employs all his skill or cun- 
ning to hide facts, pervert testimony, and defeat justice. 
Some lawyers like to have a bad case, as it gives them an 


152 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


opportunity to display their sharpness, and gain credit 
with a certain class of people. There is a lawyer who 
lias great popularity, and is deemed fit to be President, 
because he saved five murderers from the gallows.” 

"A lawyer is sworn to be true to his client.” 

"Yes, and so the lawyer, as the case may be, defends 
an extortioner or oppressor, saves a rogue from punish- 
ment, even helps a murderer to leave his cell and return 
to society.” 

" Squire, I am not concerned about the character of 
lawyers — I am thinking chiefly about their facilities for 
making money ; but as you claim to be just to all men, 
you sliould remember that lawyers defend the weak, save 
the innocent from harm, keep the lights burning in the 
temple of justice, and are the great expounders of politi- 
cal science as well as of law.” 

" Well, I wish to give full credit to the lawyers for all 
the good they do, though it be done for money. Some 
lawyers are good men. Very many lawyers are not. In 
my judgment, the practice of law, considered as a whole, 
is demoralizing. It tends to promote cunning, craft, 
scheming, — properties which are shared with the lower 
animals. It tends to impair the sense of right and 
wrong and deaden the conscience. It develops a passion 
for money-making and a passion for office, and, at the 
same time, renders men unscrupulous in using means for 
the attainment of their desired objects. In my judg- 
ment, lawyers, as a class, are unsafe leaders in the State 
and in society, and do more harm than good. I hope, 
therefore, that Mr. Branley will not study law.” 

Some people may think that Squire Bluffton defamed 
the lawyers. Others may think that he simply stated the 
truth. People, in fact, are not exactly agreed in respect 
to the usefulness of the legal profession. Perhaps a 
majority believe that there must be such a profession, and 
that lawyers are one of the "necessary evils.” 


SUCCESS, 


153 


Meanwhile the young people, perhaps growing tired of 
the learned and sober discussion, passed quietly into 
another chamber, and had a conversation of their own. 
Various topics were discussed in a lively and satisfactory 
manner. At one time, when the talk slackened a little, 
the young gentlemen proposed the question, ” What are 
the qualifications for married life ? ” and desiring, as they 
said, to enlighten the ladies, proceeded to answer it. 

" Good sense is one,” said George Howell. 

” Good temper is another,” said Charles Calvert. 

" Industry is one,” affirmed Jim McKay. Unfortu- 
nately, Jim added, want to marry a girl who can 
work.” 

The last remark gave Jane Folsom a chance which she 
could not afford to neglect. 

” Yes, you want to lie in bed and take your ease, and let 
your wife keep you. Jim, you have ruined your prospect 
this night. You will look for a wife a long time before 
you get one. Gentlemen, don’t expose yourselves any 
farther.” 

" Let us appeal to Flora,” said Jim. " She has read 
many books, and I suppose has studied the question.” 

" The gentlemen have answered so far very well,” Miss 
Calvert remarked. " My opinion is this : Piety (includ- 
ing, of course, good morals) and good sense, good 
temper or self-control, a kind, sympathizing nature, and 
habits of industry and economy, are the qualifications 
needed by candidates for matrimony.” Flora’s answer 
was just such a one as the young men expected ; but she 
added something which they did not expect, and which 
prompted them to engage in the work of self-examina- 
tion. ” Gentlemen, if you have these qualifications, you 
are fit to marry ; if you haven’t them, you are not fit, and, 
of course, will not be able to marry sensible girls.” 

” Let us appeal to Mr. Branley,” said George Howell. 


154 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


” If Flora is our wisest girl, he is our wisest young man. 
He has already taught us many things ; surely he can tell 
us what young folks need in order that they may enter 
safely into married life.” 

” Gentlemen,” the teacher remarked, ” Miss Flora has 
given a true and full answer. I cannot improve it, — 
cannot change a word, cannot add one.” 

" Gentlemen,” exclaimed Miss Jane, ” you have shown 
your folly again by appealing to our teacher. You might 
have been sure that he would agree with Flora.” 

" Well,” said Jim, in a tone slightly marked by serious- , 
ness, "it would be wise and safe for Mr. Branley and all of 
us to listen to Flora, and accept her opinions and advice.” 

" Let us all try to get the qualifications,” Jane observed, 
with much apparent gravity. 

Miss Van Arsdale introduced the subject which had 
been previously discussed by the elderly folks. 

" Mr. Branley, the people are anxious to know what 
business or profession you have in view.” 

" The people, I am happy to see, take a great interest 
in my welfare,” the teacher observed, speaking sincerely 
as well as affably. " As to plans for the future, I can 
hardly say anything. Perhaps the people, as the Squire 
and Mr. Flint have endeavored to do, can give me some 
valuable aid. Now, my young friends, you know me 
pretty well ; perhaps you can tell me what business I 
should follow.” 

" Let Flora speak,” said Jane, with the usual toss of 
her head and mischievous glance. " She has considered 
the matter ; she can tell. Ask her, Mr. Branley.” 

" Miss Flora,” said Mr. Branley, in his pleasantest 
manner, "I am commanded to appeal to you. Please 
say what profession or business I should choose.” 

" Mr. Branley,” Flora replied, " I can say nothing, 
decide nothing, until I ascertain your tastes and abilities. 
Are you ready for an examination ? ” 


SUCCESS. 


155 


" O ! an examination is not necessary,” interposedJane. 
” Let Flora say what she would like ; that will decide the 
question at once and forever ; Mr. Branley is sure to 
make her choice his own.” 

”But suppose, Miss Jane, I have no choice, what 
then?” Flora paused and listened for a response. None 
came ; and, resuming with the air of an independent 
thinker, she said, " I rather differ from some of the old 
gentlemen who sit in the other room. As a rule, men 
give character to professions and business : professions 
and business do not give character to men. A good man, 
whether a lawyer, doctor, minister, farmer or mechanic, 
will adorn his place and make it respectable.” Flora 
paused again, listened, but heard nothing ; in fact, all 
who sat around were waiting for her to proceed. She 
continued, assuming the air of a moral philosopher, ”I 
tell you, Jane, that, in estimating the worth of men, 1 
look at themselves, — that is, at their intellectual and 
moral qualities, and not at their avocations.” 

"You are a lucky man,” Jane cried, addressing the 
teacher. " Flora will be pleased with anything. You 
can choose freely. You can be a lawyer, or a farmer, or 
anything else, provided — do you hear, Mr. Branley? — 
provided you have good morals.” 

The conversation was insensibly drifting from Mr. 
Branley’s choice of a profession to Miss Flora’s choice of 
a husband ; and iMiss Mary Campbell inquired, 

" Flora, if your suitor had a little money, would it not 
recommend him?” 

" Not much ; not much, or none at all, in comparison 
with certain personal endowments.” 

"Flora, you are ambitious — indeed, more so than 
any of us,” Mary rejoined. "Would you not like to 
have a fine house and live in style ? ” 

" 1 would JaIvC to have a pretty cottage. If it had 


156 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


large rooms, window shutters, and a portico, I certainly 
would not object. I would like ” — 

”Are you paying attention, Mr. Branley?” Jane in- 
quired. 

"I would like to have many books and pictures. I 
would like to have a large back yard, and a front yard 
still larger, with an abundance of shrubbery.” 

"Including roses,” Mr. Branley ventured to add. 

"O, you are wrong, Mr. Branley,” cried Jane. "Flora 
does not like roses. She is jealous of them. She thinks 
that, when we were on the lake last summer, you looked 
at her rose, and not at her.” 

"Jane, you are wrong,” affirmed Miss McConnell. 
" Mr. Branley just pretended to look at the rose. He 
was really looking at Flora all the time, and she knows 
all this perfectly.” 

"Here is a fine controversy between two girls,” re- 
marked Miss Van Arsdale. "Who can settle it? Can 
you. Flora?” 

The girl to whom the question was addressed, answered 
promptly, and spoke decisively. 

" I am not jealous of roses. I should be very much 
surprised if our teacher did not look at roses and admire 
them. As for the object which attracts and charms him 
most, that is for Mr. Branley, and not for me, to tell.” 

"Mr. Branley,” said Miss Van Arsdale, "Flora has 
done her part in settling this controversy. Are you ready 
to do yours? Please tell us what you look at and 
admire.” 

The young man to whom this appeal was made did not 
answer promptly. He reflected awhile. The company 
waited and listened. At length he spoke ; and he said 
more than was anticipated by his gay young friends. 

"Ladies, I do not see that you have a right to inquire 
into my private affiairs. However? I like to please you, 


SUCCESS. 


157 


and will speak with all candor. I look at roses and at 
rosy lasses, and admire both. No doubt, when we were 
on the lake, my eyes wandered a little : sometimes I 
looked at the rose ; and sometimes I looked at the wearer. 
To-night, no roses are seen, and the rosy lasses necessa- 
rily engage my attention. If any one should ask, * Which 
do you admire most — the roses or the rosy lasses?’! 
must say that the animate object is far more interesting 
than the inanimate. But, ladies, you must not imagine 
that beauty so frail and transitory as that of the rose and 
the rosy maiden, engrosses my thoughts. A bright, soar- 
ing mind, supplied with knowledge, elevated by noble 
sentiments, guided by divine principles, is beautiful — at 
the same time, fadeless ; and I admire it very much. A 
good heart — a heart that is sincere, pure, affectionate, 
true and faithful, showing itself in the light of the eyes, 
in the expression of the face, even in the pressure of the 
hand, and in the gentle ministries of Christian life, is the 
most beautiful and precious of all beautiful and precious 
things . I admire such a heart ; I love it ; I prize it ex- 
ceedingly.” 

As Branley proceeded with his statement he grew 
serious, and he closed it with much apparent earnestness 
and solemnity. His seriousness impressed and sobered 
the whole company. The young people, desiring to 
change the subject of conversation, began to talk about 
the end of the school. And the teacher invited his young 
friends to visit the school-house on the last day, and wit- 
ness the closing scenes and exercises. 

Mr. Branley enjoyed the party. He was treated with 
marked respect and kindness, not only by the host and 
hostess, but by all the guests, old and young. Then, 
Flora Calvert was present, and every rival, real or imag- 
ined, was absent. Nor did Flora seem to have a thought 
about any absent one. She was sociable and cheerful, as 


158 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


if fully satisfied with her company. She was not, indeed, 
so light and gay as she had been on other occasions ; but 
Branley just inferred that the presence of so large a num- 
ber of elderly people put a slight restraint on her exu- 
berant nature. He saw nothing but affability and kind- 
ness ; and he began to assure himself of success as the 
lover of Flora Calvert. ” Soon, pretty soon,” he thought, 
will make a declaration, and learn my destiny.” 

Near the close of the evening Dr. Marsden happened 
to pass among the young people, and, observing the 
teacher as he sat with his young friends and appeared to 
be very happy, remarked, in his pleasant way, 

^^Mr. Branley, I presume you are not now sorry that, 
a year and a half ago, you accepted our school at twelve 
dollars a month.” 

The young man could not, and did not, say that he 
was sorry. He felt that the triumph and pleasure 
enjoyed this evening were an ample compensation for all 
past disappointment, vexation and toil. 

The party, however, brought before Mr. Branley’s 
mind an important matter, — the choice of a profession or 
business. He had been attracted to the law ; but when 
he attended the academy in town, and acquired, person- 
ally, a little more knowledge of lawyers and courts, that 
profession, especially in some of its aspects, began to be 
slightly repulsive. The discussion which occurred be- 
tween Squire Bluffton and Mr. Flint suggested a great 
question, and awakened thought as well as supplied 
amusement, but gave him no decided impulse in one 
direction or another. He reflected that the Squire might 
be limited in his knowledge or prejudiced in his feelings ; 
and he knew that Mr. Flint was accustomed to speak in 
a serio-comic manner, and could not have been serious 
and candid in all his statements. The young man re- 
solved to watch, inquire, learn, judge and decide for 
himself. 


FAILURE, 


159 


CHAPTER XIX. 

FAILURE. 

The school closed prosperously and happily. Both 
parties, the teacher and his patrons, were satisfied. Dur- 
ing the last week, many persons came forward and paid 
their subscriptions ; and, on the last day, others presented 
themselves with their money. Mr. Branley began to 
think that he could go home without any troublesome delay. 

The closing exercises were very similar to those of the 
preceding year. There was an address from the teacher. 
There was a formal, kind parting between the teacher 
and the scholars. There was, however, a difference be- 
tween this closing day and the previous one. A large 
number of young people were present as spectators. 
Some had been invited by the teacher. Others came 
without invitations. All received a hearty welcome. It 
is highly probable that the young folks attended, not only 
to see the close of the school, but to honor Mr. Branley, 
the hero of Konneautt Lake, who was about to leave the 
neighborhood. Flora Calvert was among the visitors. 

The school was dismissed, and the children began to 
retire. But the young men and women remained, some 
sitting, others standing in groups, all, or nearly all, talk- 
ing and laughing. Possibly, two or three were more 
thoughtful, if not more sad, than they were merry. At 
a moment when Flora happened to be sitting alone, Mr. 
Branley walked up hastily and said, 

" Miss Flora, I am going to see the lake for the last 
time. Will you be so kind as to come along with me 
and help me to look at it ? 


160 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Flora did not answer. She did not look at him. She 
did not raise her head, which had been drooping. In- 
deed, her face showed trouble, perplexity, or something 
unusual. The young man looked into her face, and was 
troubled too. In fact, he felt, at once, great disappoint- 
ment and great alarm. He had expected a cheerful and 
prompt acceptance of his invitation. ” What is the 
matter ? ” was a silent inquiry. ” Is she afraid of me ? — 
afraid that I will talk seriously ? — afraid that I will make 
an important proposal?” He waited a few seconds, and 
then said, in tones that expressed pretty strong emo- 
tion, 

” Flora, will you come ? ” 

" O yes,” she replied, rising up in haste, and adjusting 
her shawl and bonnet. 

It was a fine spring day ; the snow and ice were gone ; 
and the air was warm and pleasant. All of the young 
people resolved to take a walk and look at the water. 
Some followed one path among the elder bushes, and 
some followed another. Mr. Branley and Miss Calvert 
followed a path that suited themselves. They did not 
talk. Flora had nothing to say, and Branley had too 
much. The girl’s face still expressed uneasiness, and the 
young man had not yet recovered from his alarm. As 
they walked, Mr. Branley had, at one point, a full view 
jOf the lake. He shuddered. He recalled two ovents, — 
his fall on the ice, with his escape from a fearful danger, 
and his advance, over water fifty or a hundred feet deep, 
to the very edge of the thin, crumbling ice, in his effort 
to save a drowning man. Branley had been brave when 
bravery was needed ; but now, when there was no call 
for courageous effort, he shuddered whenever he looked 
at the water. But the young man said nothing about the 
events which had recurred so forcibly to his mind. Very 
soon another matter engrossed all his thoughts. 


FAILURE. 


161 


”See, Flora,” said Mr. Branley, ”here is a nice seat. 
Let us sit down and look at the lake.” > 

They sat down on a smooth log. 

"Do you see that bird?” Branley inquired, as he 
pointed towards a gull floating on the water. 

" Yes,” Flora replied, " and I see another not far 
away.” 

" Two united by the strongest ties is the law of ani- 
mated nature,” Branley murmured, as if speaking to him- 
self. He had thoughts which were not expressed, even 
in murmurs. " Two on the water, — they have no fear or 
trouble at all ; two on the shore, — O that confidence and 
sympathy were established between them ! ” 

" Flora, Flora, see yonder birds ! ” the young man 
suddenly exclaimed, with feelings of surprise and delight. 

The girl looked, and saw a large flock of swans. When 
first observed, the flock was high in the air and far away. 

"They are flying to their northern home,” Branley re- 
marked. 

"I wish they would call for me,” the young woman 
said, with a tone and manner that seemed almost serious. 

" Whither would you go ? ” inquired the surprised young 
man. 

" To the northern lakes — anywhere.” 

"O Flora, what do you mean? Are you tired of 
Konneautt Lake and the people here, and — and — of 
every body and every thing ? ” 

She made no reply. Meanwhile the swans were com- 
ing directly over the lake. Suddenly, the flock wheeled 
and began to descend. 

" See I ” Branley exclaimed, with much animation, 
" they are going to alight on the water.” Then, after a 
little pause, he added, with a strange blending of the play- 
ful with the serious manner, " Perhaps they are coming 
for you. Flora.” 


162 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Branley and his companion watched the swans with 
almost boundless admiration and delight. A more beau- 
tiful spectacle was never seen. The great white birds, 
resplendent in the sunshine, numbering a hundred or 
more, in marvelous order, and floating on expanded, 
motionless wings, swept around in, wide but ever-diminish- 
ing circles, descended, like visitors from a higher world, 
and finally settled on the water, causing, for a second or 
two, foam and sparkle over a wide area. 

"Beautiful ! ” exclaimed the young man. 

"Beautiful ! ” repeated the young woman. 

" Flora, of what do the swans remind you ? ” the young 
man inquired. " Did they not seem like a convoy of 
angels ? ” 

" I wish they were angels,” she replied, speaking in a 
tone that startled the youth who was listening. "Iwish 
they would come for me, and soar away.” 

" Whither would you go ? ” he ventured to ask. 

"To the better country.” 

" O Flora, are you weary of life ? Is there nothing 
here to be loved and enjoyed? Should you not be will- 
ing to stay awhile, and bless the world, and bless” — 
The power of utterance failed, and he left the sentence 
unfinished. 

She was silent. The swans were now forgotten. The 
young man, during these really painful moments, was en- 
deavoring to approach the subject which filled his mind 
and heart. Was he encouraged? No. He was excited, 
distressed, almost dismayed. He had never seen Flora 
Calvert in a state of mind so strange and unaccountable. 
And he now felt that her face, her words, her tones of 
voice, were ominous, portending almost certain defeat, 
with its great, overwhelming sorrow. But the young man 
had advanced, and he would not retreat. 

"Flora,” Mr. Branley inquired, "do you remember 


FAILURE. 


163 


tliat, about eighteen months ago, I sat on this log and 
you passed by on that path ? ” 

remember,” she answered in cheerful tones, as if 
pleased with the reminiscence. ”Iwas looking for our 
cattle which had run away, and given us some trouble.” 

Did you know that, ever since that time, I have loved 
this log, and have often come here to sit, and- to think 
about the girl who passed by on that path ? ” 

"I did not, Mr. Branley.” 

" Did you know that, ever since that time, the image 
of Flora Calvert was impressed on my heart?” 

"I cannot say that I did, Mr. Branley.” 

” Flora, I have purposely brought you to this place. 
Here I first saw you, and here I wish to make a solemn 
declaration. AY ill you let me take your hand? ” 

She offered no resistance. He took her hand, held it 
firmly, and proceeded. 

''Flora, I solemnly declare that, ever since I sat here 
and you passed there, I have admired and loved you.” 

He looked at the girl. Her head was drooping ; and 
she was silent. 

" Flora,” said Mr. Branley, " I have not been a trouble- 
some suitor. I have never obtruded my love. Indeed, I 
thought, for a long time, that others had prior and better 
claims to your regard ; and I stood at a distance, gazed, 
admired, and loved, but with scarcely a hope. During a 
long period I made no effort to win your heart ; I offered 
my distant, silent homage, — that was all. But, Flora, I 
do not now see that any one stands between us. I do 
not see why I may not profess my love, and ask yours in 
return. I speak now because I am about to leave this 
neighborhood, and I am most anxious to learn your will 
and pleasure before I go. I am not fast — not unreason- 
able, I think, in asking a decisive answer. For months, 
if not for the whole year and a half, you must have known 


1G4 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


that I loved you, and you must have expected a declara- 
ration : you must, therefore, be prepared to settle my 
fate. Flora, may I claim this hand ? Will you give me 
the right to clasp you in my arms ? ” 

She said nothing. He looked into her face. Tears 
were flowing down her cheeks. There were indications 
of great distress. 

” Flora,” he continued, " I have never said a word for 
myself. Let me say a word now. I belong to a re- 
spectable family. I have good habits. I never used a 
profane word in my life. I use no tobacco. I drink no 
whiskey. I never associate with bad people. As far as 
I know, I have a sound body and a sound mind. I have 
a little money, and I have industry and energy. The 
Omniscient God knows that I speak the truth. And 
now, all that I am, with all that I possess, is oflered to 
you.” 

He paused, and listened for some reply. He heard no 
words at all ; but he distinctly heard sobs. The young 
man proceeded. 

"Flora, Ido not propose immediate marriage. I do 
not wish to take you from your mother just now. We 
are too young to marry. I am twenty-two, and you are 
eighteen. We can afford to wait awhile. . Then, I have 
no place for you now ; but I am sure that, in the course 
of a year or two, I cam provide a suitable home. O, if 
you would say. Yes, how cheerfully and energetically I 
w^ould go to work and make all needful preparations ! 
The thought and labor employed in preparing a pleasant 
home for you would be blessedness itself. Flora, will you 
consent to be my wife ? ” 

He pressed her hand ; he waited ; he listened ; but he 
heard nothing except the sobs. 

" Flora, will you not speak ? Do say something, I be- 
seech you. Say yes or say no. I cannot endure this 


FAILURE. 


1G5 


suspense. It is killing me. And distress of some kind 
is killing you. Speak, and settle the question now and 
for all time.” 

Not a word did she say. But her whole frame trembled, 
and her weeping continued, even with increasing violence. 
Mr. Branley’s disappointment was great, but he soon 
almost forgot it in his sympathy for the girl who wept at 
his side. Her distress filled his heart with insupportable 
anguish. 

Flora,” he said, "don’t weep. I will leave you; I 
will trouble you no more. For some reason unknown to 
me you cannot give me your love — you cannot be my 
wife. Well, until recently I never had much hope. Re- 
cently, indeed, I began to be hopeful, and even confident ; 
but I must have been foolish ; I should have expected 
failure. Well, the delusion is past now. And though I 
have lost or missed a great treasure and a great joy, I shall 
not be crushed and destroyed by the weight of my sorrow. 
It has been my determination, all the time, to be* a man, 
to serve God, to be useful, and, whatever may come, to 
be as happy as possible. And now. Flora, let us part. 
The sooner we part the better it will be ; for this distress 
is too great for us to bear. My departure will relieve you 
of your trouble ; and time and employment, I trust, will 
relieve me of mine. Come, Flora, let us go.” 

They rose up, and returned slowly towards the school- 
house. Flora recovered her calmness ; but they continued 
their walk in silence. As they approached the school- 
house, where the other young people were now re- 
assembling, Mr. Branley whispered to Flora, 

" We need not part in anger. O no ; let us part as 
very good friends. We may not meet again; but I am 
sure that I will not forget you. Flora ; and I think that 
you will not forget me.” 

" Certainly, I will not forget you, Mr. Branley,” Flora 
said, speaking in a firm and cheery manner. 


166 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


The young man was inexpressibjy glad when he heard 
her speak again. And the thought that Flora would not 
forget him was balm to his wounded heart. He took her 
hand, pressed it tenderly, and looked at her once more. 
Her cheeks were still wet with tears ; but a glorious smile 
lit up her face. O that such a face and such a smile could 
be seen no more ! Mr. John Branley and Miss Flora 
Calvert parted ; and they parted, as they thought, for- 
ever. 


CHAPTER XX. 

A WEDDING. 

It is strange how people meet, form attachments, and 
marry. In many cases a mere accident brings young 
folks together, and the accidental meeting results in a 
union for life. However, it frequently happens that de- 
sign, on the pirt of some one, secures the first meeting 
and the consequent marriage. Sometimes accident and 
design seem to cooperate and lead to the interesting 
result. 

Charley Calvert and Tom McConnell had negotiated, 
somewhat seriously, espeeially on Tom’s side, for an ex- 
change of sisters. For reasons that need not be stated 
the negotiations failed : Charley Calvert did not marry 
Caroline McConnell, and Tom McConnell did not marry 
Flora Calvert. No oftense was given or taken by any 
one of the young people concerned : all remained on good 
terms ; Charley and Tom, in particular, continued to be 
warm friends. In fact, their early scheme having been 
abandoned, these two young men deliberately aided each 
other in finding and securing life companions. The girls 


A WEDDING. 


167 


found and captured were not entire strangers ; but they 
could not be classed with old, intimate acquaintances. 

One day, Charley saw Tom passing, and hailed him. 
Tom stopped, and, according to custom, leaned against 
the fence. Charles approached him an^ began to talk. 

''Tom,” remarked Charles, "we have some visitors. 
They are our cousins. Come in and see them, and get 
acquainted.” 

"I do not like to speak to strangers,” said Tom. 

"O, you need not regard them as strangers. They 
are our friends, and they are just like ourselves. You 
know us pretty well, and need not be afraid of them. 
Besides,, you have heard of them before. Come in, 
Tom.” 

Tom complied, entered the house, and was introduced 
to James Dilworth and his sister. It happened that Tom 
called next day, and had a pleasant chat with Mary 
Dilworth. It happened that, two weeks afterwards, Tom 
rode ten miles and saw Mary at home. And it happened 
that Tom had the same ride, every two or three weeks, 
during a period of three or four months. 

Tom McConnell passed Mrs. Calvert’s again; and, on 
this occasion, he called Charles. Tom leaned against the 
fence, and Charles came up promptly, wondering what 
his friend had to say. Tom did not permit him to wonder 
very long. 

" Charles,” said the young man, blushing and stammer- 
ing, " I wish to tell you something. I am going to get 
married. I am going to marry your cousin Mary. You 
will not object — will you? I want you and Flora to 
attend the wedding.” 

" I am glad, very glad,” exclaimed Charles. " Mary 
is truly a good girl. She will suit you exactly. I wish 
I had your good luck.” 

" Come to the wedding, Charley, and perhaps you will 


168 


KONNEAUTT LAKE, 


have the same good luck. I am sure I am ready to help 
you.” 

The young men parted. Tom turned about and went 
in the direction of home. Charles, the recipient of good 
news, ran into the house and communicated the news to 
Flora. She was delighted — delighted with Tom’s pros- 
pective marriage, and with her own prospect as one of 
the guests. 

’'Will you attend the wedding, sis?” Charles inquired. 

"Certainly,” Flora responded, with emphasis. "Cer- 
tainly, if you find me a horse. But, Charley, you must 
find a spry one — one that will keep up with the fastest 
horse in the crowd.” 

"With whom will you ride, sis? ” 

" I do not know, but it will be somebody who will not 
be left behind, I assure you.” 

" Well, I can find the horse,” Charley said, " but I am 
not sure that I can find the partner.” 

Tom McConnell’s wedding-day arrived. Henry 
Stafibrd called it the " great day Tom.” A large company 
was engaged to start from McConnell’s. Charles and 
Flora Calvert were there at the appointed hour, sitting on 
the backs of superb horses, and ready for a gallop. Flora 
had been accustomed to horses from her early childhood, 
and was perfectly fearless. She sat erect on her prancing 
steed, holding the reins firmly. Her face, figure and 
carriage, looked like the face, figure and carriage of a 
queen. Some fancied that she was proud and imperious 
that day. Some pretended to think that she was vain, 
and trying to win attention. However all really admired 
Flora Calvert. But while this girl was so bold and fear- 
less, other girls, who had seldom or never been on 
horseback, were exceedingly timid ; and these timid 
creatures, piteously pleading, " O don’t ride fast,” were 
placed in their saddles by a little gentle force. No 


A WEDDING. 


169 


lady had a riding-habit ; and only a few of the gentlemen 
wore boots. 

The horses did not make a grand and impressive show. 
They were of all sizes, colors and qualities. Some were 
good, but many were bad ; some were too old, and others 
were too young ; some had shoes, and others had none ; a 
few were well-trained, but some had no training at all. 

Flora Calvert had not yet secured a partner. Charles 
was near ; but the young men had a fair opportunity to 
advance and offer their services. Flora looked around, 
and seemed to dare the ” bravest of the brave ” to dash 
forward and obtain the honor of a position at her side. 
None made any movement. The young men seemed to 
be afraid — afraid that she would reject their offer, or 
afraid that her steed would distance theirs, and leave them 
in disgrace and humiliation. 

Tom McConnell, perhaps to honor himself and make a 
good impression on Mary’s friends, had chosen Henry 
Stafford, the man of noble presence, polished manners 
and brilliant wit, to be the "groom’s man.” In proceed- 
ing to the home of the bride, it was the duty of the 
groom’s man to ride with the groom. Just as Stafford 
was about to mount his horse, he turned and gazed at 
Flora Calvert. Did he admire the girl? Was he sorry 
that he could not ride with her? Well, his conduct was 
rather significant. Having mounted, Stafford rode past 
Flora, and remarked, in low tones, 

" I am sorry that custom requires me to ride with the 
groom.” 

" Custom is law,” responded the girl. 

" Yes,” said Stafford, " but custom is often very absurd ; 
and even when not so, it may be very inconvenient and 
annoying.” 

Nothing more was said, and Stafford, riding forward, 
took the place which custom assigned him. 


170 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. ■ 


Some of the girls, observing Flora’s situation and 
Stafford’s movement, had a little chat among themselves. 

" Flora is in a predicament ; she has no partner,” said 
Miss Van Arsdale. "I am sorry that Stafford cannot ride 
with her. I am sure that he is bold enough to offer his 
services ; and I am sure that he would not be left 
behind.” 

” I wish Mr. Branley was here,” said Miss Folsom. 
” Certainly, he would offer himself instantly. Certainly, 
he would kill his horse, or break his own neck, rather than 
see Flora get far ahead.” 

"I am rather glad,” remarked Miss Campbell, "that 
Flora has no partner, she is' so proud. I guess she will 
get none.” 

" I wonder why Mr. Branley does not show himself this 
summer, as he did last summer,” JMiss Folsom observed, 
paying no attention to Miss Campbell’s unkind remark. 
" The lake is as pretty as ever ; Flora is as pretty as ever ; 
and we should all be glad to see him.” 

"Flora knows, I think,” said Miss Yan Arsdale. "I 
suspect she does not wish to see him, and he knows it. If 
Branley could not bask in the light of Flora’s eyes, he 
could see no beauty in all this country, — even the lake 
would have no attraction for him.” 

"I wonder why Flora does not like Mr. Branley,” Miss 
Folsom remarked, speaking quite seriously. " 1 am sure I 
like him. Don’t you, Sarah?” 

" Everybody likes him,” the other replied. " I believe 
that Flora likes him, though she may not wish to encourage 
his attentions.” 

Tom McConnell was satisfied with his party. He had 
good reason to be. The party embraced the choice young 
people of a large neighborhood. Henry Stafford, the 
handsomest, the wittiest, the most popular, young man 
in the country, was the groom’s waiter. Then, Flora 


A WEDDING. 


171 


Calvert, though not to be the bride, adorned his retinue, and 
would surely give lustre to his wedding. 

At length the word was given, and the party began to 
move. Charles Calvert, departing from custom, rode 
with his sister. The young people started on a canter. 
Mirth abounded. There was some talk, and there was 
very much laughter. Sometimes, when a horse stumbled, 
there was a little scream. Once, when a girl rode too near 
a bush and lost her bonnet, there was a general shout. 
The canter was not long maintained by all ; and the 
company could scarcely be kept together. While some of 
the horses, becoming excited, were disposed to run at 
their highest speed, others, growing tired or lazy, were 
disposed to walk or stop entirely. Consequently, some 
of the party were compelled to hold back their horses, 
and others were compelled to use the ” raw-hide ” vigor- 
ously, in order to prevent unseemly dispersion or 
straggling. 

Yfhen Tom and his friends had proceeded seven or 
eight miles, they discovered, on an eminence two or three 
hundred yards distant, a party that closely resembled their 
own. It was the bride’s party, coming to meet the groom’s 
party and escort it to the bride’s home. The bride’s party 
halted, and awaited the approach of the other. As the 
groom’s party ascended the hill, the bride’s party divided, 
the gentlemen taking one side of the road and the ladies 
taking the other side, thus forming two ranks and leaving 
an intervening space : the groom and his friends passed 
between the ranks, exchanging smiles and salutations with 
the friends of the bride ; then the bride’s party wheeled, 
closed the ranks, and moved with the party in front. 
The two parties now formed one party, proceeded rapidly, 
and soon reached the end of the short, pleasant journey. 

The marriage ceremony was soon performed. But the 
officiating clergyman asked questions and employed words 


172 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


which, it is said, are omitted at the present time. He 
addressed this question to the bridegroom : " Do you know 
any reason, by previous contract or otherwise, why you 
cannot lawfully marry this woman ? ” A corresponding 
question was addressed to the bride. Afterwards, the 
clergyman, having asked the bridegroom an important 
question and receiving an affirmative answer, asked the 
bride an important question, which closed thus : ” And 

do you promise to be to him a loving, faithful and 
obedient wife?” 

It must be confessed that the Apostle Paul is losing 
his authority, even with people who profess to receive the 
whole Bible as the word of God. Paul said, " Wives, 
submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the 
Lord.” Some women declare that Paul’s theory of the 
relation between a husband and wife is founded on igno- 
rance and barbarism ; while a greater number, whatever 
they may think of his doctrine in the abstract, entirely 
reject it in practice. The strong-minded and aspiring 
ladies are urging their claims most strenuously, and are 
making some progress in the advancement of their views. 
Some interesting questions present themselves. Where 
will the agitators stop ? When will they be satisfied ? 
Will the possession of ” equal rights ” give them full con- 
tent? Perhaps, to satisfy them fully, the question 
addressed to the bridegroom must be this : " Do you 
promise to be to this woman a loving, faithful and 
obedient husband ? ” 

A great dinner followed the marriage ceremony. 
Promenading and romping in the yard, and ball playing 
in the meadow, followed the dinner. When night came, 
the guests filled the house, and engaged in the customajy 
plays — possibly, had some music and dancing. All ap- 
peared to enjoy the ” great day Tom.” 

At a certain time in the evening, as Charles Calvert 


A WFDBma, 


173 


was passing the bride, he saw a young lady standing be- 
side her chair. The bride arose and said, '' Cousin 
Charles, I make you acquainted with Miss Semple.’’ Was 
this meeting an accident? Or was it designed? No 
matter. Mr. Charles Calvert and Miss Lydia Semple 
met, were introduced to each other, and had a pleasant 
time. Lydia was a very young girl, with a slender figure, 
light hair, and a very fair complexion. She was as timid 
as a fawn. A look directed towards her, even by a lady, 
made her shrink, as if she wished to vanish from sight. 
A word addressed to her by any one, but, especially, a 
word addressed by a gentleman, made blushes and confu- 
sion. She conversed, when she was able to converse at 
all, in monosyllables ; and her list usually comprised 
these two, yes and no. Yet discerning people saw that 
she had mind and heart. At least, Charles Calvert was 
soon convinced that Lydia possessed all human excellence. 

As soon as Tom had an opportunity to speak to Charles 
privately, he said, 

” Charley, how do you like Miss Semple ? ” 

" Much, very much,” he replied. " She is nice ; she is 
charming.” 

''Well, I have just this to say,” Tom remarked: 
"Lydia is a very good girl, as I am assured by Mary, 
who knows her well. Your success, I think, is certain. 
Now, Charley, is not your luck about as good as mine ? ” 

"Thank you! thank you, my old friend,” Charles ex- 
claimed, grasping McConnell’s hand and pressing it 
warmly. "I know that to you and Mary I am indebted 
for this new and delightful acquaintance. A thousand 
thanks to you and Cousin Mary.” 

At ten o’clock next day forty horses stood before Mr. 
Dilworth’s house. Twenty young men and twenty young 
women stood or walked about, preparing to mount the 
horses and ride away. Of course, Mr. Stafford, the 


174 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


groom’s man, was required to ride with Miss Booth, the 
bride’s maid. But Stafford passed Flora Calvert and re- 
marked, in low tones, 

”I am sorry that I cannot choose my own partner.” 

” You have a very nice partner, Mr. Stafford,” said Flora. 

Yes,” he responded, "but I might have a nicer one.” 

” Sarah Booth is a splended girl,” said Flora, speaking 
with emphasis. 

" Yes,” he remarked, ”but she is not my choice'. For- 
tunately, I shall soon be at liberty to choose for myself.” 

As Stafford left, Charles came up and whispered, 

” Flora, you must find a partner for yourself ; I cannot 
ride with you to day.” 

I can easily find a partner,” she replied ; " many are 
offering themselves now ; the trouble is to make a choice.” 

She made a choice, accepting the offer tendered by Mr. 
George Semple. But Flora looked around to see what 
fortune had provided for her brother. Charles was lead- 
ing forward Miss Semple. The youth was talking and 
the maiden was blushing ; but neither of them looked un- 
happy. 

The young men and their partners now stood beside 
the horses. Each gentleman helped his partner to secure 
her seat, held the stirrup while she placed her foot 
properly, put the reins in her hands, then mounted and 
took the required position. The party started on a gallop ; 
but the gallop soon became a trot ; and the trot speedily 
became a walk. 

The experience of this day was very different from the 
experience of the preceding one. The party entered a 
long lane, and, advancing with good speed, made a dis- 
covery which caused much surprise and a little dismay. 
Near the end of the lane, a huge barricade, reaching 
from fence to fence, obstructed the road. Obstacles 
thrown in the way of a wedding party were common; 


A WEDDING. 


175 


but this barricade was something really marvelous. It 
looked as if all the surrounding fields and woods had 
been ransacked for building material. It looked as 
if a little army had been employed for hours, if not 
for days, in piling logs, roots, saplings and brush. When 
the party came to the barricade, a full stop was un- 
avoidable. Some of the young people felt annoyed, and 
uttered complaints. Others, however, seemed to be pleased : 
at any rate, they laughed heartily. But a serious question 
presented itself and demanded a prompt answer. " What 
is to be done ? ” The young men looked around. A high, 
hea\"y fence stood on each side of the road. Corn grew in 
one of the fields ; wheat grew in the other. They had no 
wish to commit a trespass, and expose themselves to a 
prosecution for damages. They very soon resolved, not to 
pass through a field, but to remove a part of the obstruction. 
They dismounted hastily, handed the reins of their bridles 
to the girls, and went to work with a sort of frenzy and 
fury. They cleared a passage, mounted their horses, rode 
through the barricade, and proceeded in triumph, think- 
ing, no doubt, that the supervisor might finish the work 
which they had begun. 

Entering the wood, the party heard a tremendous 
shout or hurra. Presently, the forest seemed to be alive 
with animals, or Indians, or creatures of some kind, run- 
ning, leaping, rolling, gesticulating wildly, and making 
terrific noises. Cries mingled with cries ; peals followed 
peals, like sharp claps of thunder; and the young folks 
almost expected to see the great oaks shivered, scattered, 
and falling everywhere. Well, the mischievous fellows 
who erected the barricade were just looking at the wed- 
ding party, and enjoying the fruits of their labor. 

The party soon experienced another and a more serious 
trouble. Five men, each carrying a gun, walked into the 
road, deployed, and faced the approaching cavalcade. 


176 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


One of the men fired, making a loud report. Many 
horses were affrightened. Some reared, some plunged 
forward, others wheeled and endeavored to run baek. 
Happily, all the girls were able to keep their seats. 

"This is dangerous business,” said one of the young 
men. 

"It is barbarous, wieked business, ” said one of the 
girls. 

" Mother knew a woman who was killed in sueh circum- 
stanees as these,” another girl remarked, with a trembling 
voice. 

Meanwhile Stafford, who was, or pretended to be, very 
angry, rode up to the men and ordered them to leave the 
road. 

" Who are you? ” one of them cried. "We know our 
own business.” 

" I know my business too,” Stafford said, sternly, " and 
I order you to move.” 

"Your business,” said the impudent man, "is to treat 
us. Where’s the bottle?” 

"I have no bottle,” Stafford replied, "and if I had one 
you should not see it. I thought beasts of prey,” he 
continued, in tones which suited his words, " came out of 
their dens only at night. Shall I have to use my whip 
and drive you back to your den ? ” 

" Shall I have to use a bullet and stop your insults ? ” 
cried the other, slapping his hand on his pouch and mak- 
ing a rattle. Stafford did not often show anger ; but he 
was angry now, really angry, even furious. A thunder- 
cloud covered his face, and lightnings blazed from his eyes. 

" Get out of the way,” he shouted, " or I’ll ride over 
you.” 

The men raised their guns, as if about to fire, probably 
just to make a noise, possibly one of them intending to 
use a bullet. 


A WEDDING. 


177 


” Don’t fire ! don’t fire ! ” cried many voices. 

It was a critical moment. And at that moment a 
young man who had dismounted and was watching matters 
keenly, rushed between Stafford and the enemy, and held 
up a flask. 

The men saw the sparkling liquor, lowered their guns, 
seized the flask, passing it from hand to hand, each taking 
a second dram. Then, returning the flask, which was 
nearly empty, they began to move away. 

'' Go on,” said the impudent man, " we want nothing 
more.” 

" Go to your den,” said Stafford, ”and stay there.” 

The men walked away, muttering something that was 
not distinctly heard. The wedding party moved forward 
again. 


want no more delays,” said one of the young men. 
” I am hungry, and I want my dinner.” 

am very tired,” said one of the girls, ”and I want 
to rest.” 

The wedding party, especially that section which be- 
longed to the bride’s neighborhood, contained some wild 
and reckless men, who were accustomed to carry knives, 
and who, when tipsy or angry, were dangerous to friends 
and foes. 

*'If we meet another set of men with their guns, 1 
know what I will do,” said ^ one of this class. ”Andl 
know what I will do,” was the warlike remark of several 
others. Yet these young men, when they happened to 
be uninvited to a wedding, and felt a little mad, or, at 
least, a little tliirsty, did not hesitate to confront the wed- 
ding party. Are off their guns, and imperil human life. 

The party came to a considerable swamp. The road 
was very narrow, a dense and almost impenetrable thicket 
growing on each side. The young folks rode slowly and 
quietly. They were now near the lake, and they were 


178 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


not far from Evansburgh. They were expecting that 
some powder would be exploded in the village, but had 
no thought of immediate danger. Suddenly, four or five 
men emerged from the thicket, stepped on the road in 
front, and fired their guns. In an instant four or five 
men, paying no attention to the horses or to the girls, 
sprang from their saddles, jerked knives from their 
pockets, and made a dash at the enemy. But the enemy, 
seeing the fierce onset, darted into the thicket and disap- 
peared. The hot-blooded young men caught no assil- 
ant, and the thirsty assailants got no liquor. Panic and 
confusion reigned for a short time. Some of the horses 
made an effort to plunge into the marsh ; but, fortunately, 
these were ridden by men, and were held back by strong 
arms. 

The wedding-party passed through Evansburgh without 
annoyance, and reached McConnell’s in safety. The 
bride received a hearty welcome from new friends. As 
usual, a great dinner was served. Merriment prevailed, 
wit sparkled, jokes abounded, and all were happy. Out- 
door games and in-door plays occurred in their customary 
order. At a late hour the guests retired to rest, some 
finding it at home, and others finding it at neighboring 
houses. 

The country wedding of modern times differs widely 
from the country wedding of early times. Perhaps 
neither can be entirely approved. In early times, while 
houses were small and accommodations very limited, a 
wedding was usually attended by a large number of 
guests. It frequently happened that guests and their 
horses were quartered, more or less, on generous neigh- 
bors. In modern times, a young man puts his girl into a 
carriage, rides to the house of a minister, gets married, 
and returns home. Or, desiring to make a show, he 
rides to town, stops at a hotel, sends for a clergyman, is 


A GIRL'S LIFE AND WORK. 


179 


married, eats a dinner, and then returns home ; or, possi- 
bly, makes a little tour. A course avoiding these ex- 
tremes might be best. Should not a marriage always 
take place at home — the home of one of the parties ? 
Should not the marriage ceremony be witnessed by 
parents, brothers and sisters, and other near and dear 
friends ? Might not a wedding be a joyful reunion of 
kindred, thus nourishing affection, and adding really and 
largely to the sum of human happiness ? 

The wedding was over, and the guests began to retire. 
Flora Calvert stood at the gate, waiting for Charles, who 
was whispering something to Miss Semple. Mr. Stafford 
approached and inquired, 

" Flora, how did you enjoy the wedding ? ” 

''Very much, indeed,” she answered ; "it was fine.” 
"Yes, it was fine,” Stafford said. Then, speaking in 
low tones, he asked, "But, Flora, could not we have a 
finer one ? ” 

He did not wait for an answer ; but if he had waited 
he would have heard none, for the girl had no answer for 
such a question. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A girl’s life and work. 

Two or three years must be passed over rapidly. Yet 
these years were not uneventful. People moved away 
from the neighborhood of Konneautt Lake, and people 
moved into the neighborhood, and became permanent 
inhabitants. Many young people married, and made 
homes for themselves. There was much sickness at 
times ; and many people, old and young, passed away 
from the scej^ies and troubles of the present world. 


180 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Flora Calvert still lived with her mother. Much of 
her time was spent in the performance of household 
duties. Some of it, however, was spent in out-door 
work. During one of the sickly summers, she was often 
in the harvest-field as well as in the meadow, not, indeed, 
handling the sickle, as women and girls were accustomed 
to do in some quarters, but handling the rake, and help- 
ing in various ways. Flora spent a part of her time 
reading books and newspapers. The Evansburgh library, 
collected by Henry Stafford, and remaining as a memorial 
of his intelligence and enterprise, supplied her with many 
books, — histories, memoirs, romances, and others. 
Sometimes she borrowed a book from a neighbor ; and 
sometimes she received one as a present from a thought- 
ful and generous friend. She was known as a reader. 
She was incomparably the most intelligent girl in the 
community. 

‘ Flora Calvert was still young, blooming and attractive ; 
but she was no longer surrounded by flatterers and 
suitors ; and her name was not often mentioned in con- 
nection with the subject of matrimony. Her bearing 
awed the young men ; and, while they still admired her, 
they stood at a distance. 

Good and sensible young men, failing to win Flora’s 
love, gladly accepted her esteem, and remained her warm 
friends. But two or three vain young, men, too keenly 
sensible that Flora regarded them with indifference or 
contempt, felt hurt and grew spiteful. They encouraged 
themselves to think that Flora was proud, and ought to 
be humbled. They encouraged themselves to believe that 
she had been unjust and cruel to certain young men, 
themselves included, and so deserved punishment. Then 
the injured and aggrieved men entered into a sort of con- 
spiracy. They resolved to make the girl suffer for her 
pride and cruelty, They did not, as rejected suitors are 


A GIRL'S LIFE AND WORK. 


181 


apt to do, attempt to stain her character : they simply 
persuaded Ike Kloster to present himself to Flora as her 
lover and wooer. They rightly judged that attention from 
a man so coarse and brutal as Ike would produce, in a 
delicate and refined nature, a feeling of the deepest 
humiliation ; and they rightly judged that the resentment 
of such a man, when repulsed with scorn and loathing, 
would be a sore annoyance to a young woman, if not 
a just cause of alarm. Ike Kloster actually presented 
himself to Flora ; and by his intolerable coarseness and 
effrontery, his persistence, and his occasional fits of anger, 
caused, for a year or two, the chief trouble of her life. 

Flora Calvert began to exhibit a new phase of character. 
She had fully returned to the social world. But now, 
while sociable and cheerful, she preferred the companion- 
ship of elderly, sober people to that of the young and gay, 
and she went to the house of mourning rather than to the 
house of feasting. Apparently, she had dismissed the 
ideal world, and assumed the responsibilities of actual life. 
And, apparently, she lived, planned and worked, not so 
much for herself as for others. Whether the change in 
Flora’s life resulted, in any degree, from a secret disap- 
pointment and sorrow, or resulted simply from an increase 
of knowledge and piety, was a point unsolved by friends 
and neighbors. 

Mr. Bayne was now sick and helpless. The Overseers 
of the Poor were compelled to take charge of him. They 
separated him from his wife and daughters, leaving them 
to work for their bread, and, as the people remarked, 
''sold him to the lowest bidder.” His utterly misspent 
life made him an object of contempt, and his filthy habits, 
growing worse every day, made him an object of loathing. 
And yet, one person called to see him now and then. 
One person spoke to him kindly. That person was a 
woman, even a young woman. Flora Calvert never 


182 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


attended one of Mrs. Bayne’s parties ; indeed, while feel- 
ing no respect for Mr. Bayne, she thoroughly despised 
his vain and foolish wife ; but now she pitied the lonely 
and miserable man, and even called to see him and speak 
a few cheery words. And whom did the pauper wish to 
see ? Not the frivolous and heartless woman whom he 
had once called wife ; not even the daughters from whom 
he had been forcibly separated, and who, possibly, had 
some more heart than their mother, — but the young 
woman who showed pity and kindness. 

" Ministering spirits ” are not always real angels or 
visitants from heaven. Sometimes they are women, who 
live among us here on earth. Flora Calvert was one who 
ministered in human form. A few of her noted ministries 
may be mentioned. 

Little Phebe Osmer was taken ill. The mother was 
in distress, for Phebe was a dear pet. Who came most 
frequently to see the poor, suffering child? Who often 
and earnestly tried to soothe the little one, watching it 
most kindly, and administering cordials with the utmost 
tenderness and care? Who gave the most comfort to 
the anxious mother? Flora Calvert. When Phebe died. 
Flora made the shroud, put the little form in the coffin, 
and shed tears with the mother, first over the coffin and 
then over the grave. 

Willy Carson, a lad of sixteen, had the measles. When 
friends thought that he was past danger, he exposed him- 
self and took a cold, the cold bringing a rapid consump- 
tion. Whose face did Willy like to see ? Whose face 
always made him glad? Certainly, next to his mother’s, 
Flora Calvert’s face gave him the most pleasure. When 
Willy passed down into the valley and shadow of death, 
Flora held his hand, and her presence and words cheered 
him as he passed through the darkness and the terrors. 

At one time a fever prevailed, prostrating whole 


A GIRUS LIFE AND WORK. 


163 


families. At another time an infectious disease, some- 
what lilve the disease now called diphtheria, spread in the 
neighborhood, attacking adults as well as children. Many 
persons died. Courageous men sometimes quailed in the 
presence of these destroyers. Flora Calvert, though per- 
haps not absolutely fearless, walked resolutely into the 
smitten households, and ministered to the sufferers, giving 
medicine to some, nourishment to others, and words of 
cheer to all. Sometimes, too, sitting beside, one who 
needed spiritual support and consolation, she read a 
chapter in the Good Book and sung a psalm or hymn. 

The world contains Avomen who seem to have misfor- 
tunes and troubles of almost every kind. Mrs. Purdy 
was one of that class. When she was a young, sprightly 
girl, she met a stranger, accepted his attentions, and soon 
married him. Purdy was a tall, handsome man ; he had 
some intelligence ; and he assumed to be a gentleman of 
the first rank. However, his bad qualities far more than 
balanced his good ones. He was a trifler, a spendthrift, 
a drunkard. Within the first year of married life, he 
fully surrendered himself to evil habits. He neglected his 
Avork, his house, and his Avife, and became stupid and in- 
sensible. Mrs. Purdy Avould have been a good and happy 
Avife if circumstances had been favorable ; but she was 
too Aveak for her trying position. She bore much in 
silence ; but sometimes she became impatient and fretful. 
It is highly probable that a woman possessing the largest 
measure of mental and moral strength and practical wis- 
dom could have effected no improvement in such a man 
as Purdy. It is certain that his Avife had no influence 
over him ; indeed, in course of time, she ceased to make 
any effort to control his actions. Apparently, she sunk 
into a state of silent despair, though not into a state of 
inactivity. Neglected by her husband, overlooked by her 
friends, with fragile health, a wearied body and a sorroAV- 


184 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


ing heart, she toiled and struggled to support herself and 
her children. Her love for the little ones was very- 
strong ; and that love may have kept her alive. 

One spring, Purdy left home professedly to seek work 
in a lumber region. He was absent several weeks. He 
sent no money to his wife. It was generally supposed 
that he did not earn very much ; and it was generally 
supposed that, if he earned and received any money, it 
was spent for tobacco and whiskey. 

One day, in the latter part of spring, Charles Calvert, 
returning home from a neighbor’s house, made a startling 
announcement : 

” Mrs. Purdy has the small-pox ! ” 

Both Mrs. Calvert and her daughter uttered excla- 
mations, and then were silent for a moment. "O poor 
JSIrs. Purdy ! ” said Flora. But Mrs. Calvert thought- 
fully inquired, ” What is to be done ? ” 

The report of Mrs. Purdy’s case spread rapidly. 
The whole community was thrown into a state of alarm ; 
for small-pox was more dreaded than any other disease. 
Vaccination had not been introduced at that time. Some 
people had been inoculated ; but many persons had not 
used any means of prevention or amelioration. Even 
tliose who had been inoculated and were personally safe, 
were afraid to visit Mrs. Purdy, lest their clothes should 
absorb infection and carry it away. Meanwhile Mrs. 
Purdy, assailed by the loathsome and horrible disease, re- 
mained alone with her children. 

” What is to be done?” Mrs. Calvert asked, addressing 
Charles and Flora. She repeated the question when she 
happened to meet a neighbor. The reply ever was, " I 
do not know.” 

” Something must be done,” Mrs. Calvert said, ad- 
dressing her children. ” Mrs. Purdy must be nursed, and 
her children must be removed. I will see the woman and 


A GIRL'S LIFE AND WORK, 


185 


bring away the little ones. We have been inoculated, 
and need not be much afraid ; but I will be careful not to 
bring away the disease.” 

” Mother,” said Charles, "the children may have the 
disease now.” 

"I trust not,” she replied; "but I must see them be- 
fore I conclude to bring them away.” 

Mrs. Calvert went to Purdy’s miserable cabin, saw the 
sick woman, spoke some encouraging words, and gave 
some needed attentions. The children appeared to be 
perfectly well. 

"We must take away the children,” said the kind 
visitor, speaking very gently. "If we remove them, they 
may be saved from an attack ; if they remain here, noth- 
ing can save them.” 

"As you think best,” said the mother, after a little 
thought and struggle. 

Mrs. Calvert changed the clothing of the children as 
far as was practicable, and was ready to lead them away. 
Mrs. Purdy could not give them a parting kiss. She 
durst not touch their hands. She could not at all caress 
her baby boy, who was just able to walk and to speak a 
few words. She looked at them affectionately and yearn- 
ingly : she could do no more. When the little ones had 
passed beyond her sight, she moaned, and said to herself, 
" Will I ever see my children again ? What will become 
of them if I should die ? ” 

Mrs. Calvert nursed the sick woman day and night. 
Flora attended to matters at home, watching over Mrs. 
Purdy’s children, besides discharging the duties of house- 
keeper. One morning Mrs. Calvert returned home 
utterly exhausted ; and, having changed her apparel, sunk 
down on her bed. Flora was alarmed, and looked ear- 
nestly into her mother’s face. 

"Have you taken the disease, mother?” 


18 () 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


” O no, dear. But I am worn out. I can do nothing 
more at present. What is to be done now, daughter?^' 
Flora did not instantly reply. She reflected a moment. 
Her earnest thinking soon brought decisive results. 

” Mother, I will go,” said the noble girl. 

” O my dear daughter, you must not go ! ” exclaimed 
the mother, raising herself on the bed, and looking at 
Flora, whose face expressed anything rather than irreso- 
lution. " Dear daughter, you must not go,” the old lady 
repeated. ” You were inoculated,” she continued, ” but 
I am not sure there was any effect. The pustule did not 
form properly.” 

" Mother, look here,” said the young heroine, showing 
her bare arm. "A mark, you know, proves that the 
process has been effective ; and here is the mark.” 

The old lady looked at the beautiful arm. It was 
white, round and smooth. But aided by her spectacles, 
and guided by Flora’s fingers, she discerned the least and 
slightest of all discernible scars. Still she felt unwilling 
that Flora should be exposed to any danger. 

” I will return,” said the mother, "rather than permit 
you to go. We cannot be sure that you would be safe.” 

Mrs. Calvert made an attempt to rise and stand on her 
feet. Her face assumed an unnatural whiteness ; she 
trembled exceedingly ; and now, unable to walk, or even 
to stand, she sunk back on her bed, ejaculating, 

" The Lord guide and protect us ! ” 

"The Lord will guide and protect us,” the daughter 
said, with emphasis. "Mother, you are not able to go 
now. Let me go. Fanny will be here to-day, and will 
help in the house. Shall we allow Mrs. Purdy to suffer 
and die alone? May I not go, mother?” 

The mother said nothing. She was afraid to say. Yes. 
She was even more afraid to say, No. Offering a silent 
prayer, she resolved to leave the matter with Flora her- 


A GIRL'S LIFE AND WORK, 


187 


self and her God. The girl understood -her mother’s 
thoughts, and prepared for the service vs^hich she had in 
view. 

” Mother,” said Flora, ” I am going. I will return as 
soon as I can be spared.” 

Use all care,” Mrs. Calvert said; and then, feeling 
the need of divine care, she murmured, " The Lord take 
care of my child ! ” 

Charles was standing near, and, looking after his sister, 
exclaimed,’ 

" O mother, I would be sorry if that smooth, pretty 
face should be pitted with small-pox.” 

The old lady made no reply ; but she certainly felt that, 
if that pretty face, or even those pretty arms, should be 
covered with scars, there would be cause for grief. But 
a thought of the most solemn nature rose in her mind : 
” What if death should seize our Flora ! ” 

The young heroine walked away rapidly. The grass 
was growing and the birds were singing, for it was a 
morning in May ; but she scarcely saw the beautiful 
green, and she scarcely heard the gladsome music. She 
was thinking about the lonely, suffering woman. 

Flora reached the cabin, knocked at the door, and 
heard a weak voice say, "Come in.” She entered boldly. 
The sick woman looked up ; her eyes expressed surprise 
and wonder, and her heart must have throbbed with un- 
bounded gratitude. Several persons had called at the 
door, after Mrs. Calvert’s departure, but none had entered 
the house. Flora looked around, opened the door and 
window, and gave the room a thorough airing, washed 
the floor, improved the hard bed a little, gave the pre- 
scribed medicines and drinks, — in a word, performed, 
with the utmost care, the duties of a nurse. And this 
care and nursing continued through the day and the 
night. 


188 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Next morning, Mrs. Hall and Mrs. Patton knocked at 
the sick woman’s door. When they saw Flora Calvert, 
they stood amazed. Feeling a sharp reproof, they said 
to themselves, ” Why, Flora is here and in the house, work- 
ing and nursing, and we have been afraid to come near.” 
These two women looked upon the girl as an angel of 
mercy in the house of suffering and death. They had the 
strongest assurance that Flora did not work for pay ; and 
they never ceased to praise her in after-time. 

”Come in,” said Flora, "and speak to Mrs. Purdy.” 

They entered the house, and looked at the sick woman. 
They shuddered, spoke a few words, and sat down. 

"Will you stay,” Flora asked, "while I run home and 
see the folks? We have the children at our house, and 
they may be taking the disease. Mother was quite ill or 
worn out yesterday, and I am concerned about her.” 

The women agreed to stay. As Flora was about to 
leave, she noticed Mrs. Purdy beckoning her. She 
stepped to the bedside. The sick woman opened her eyes 
as well as the disease would permit her, gazed intently at 
Flora for a few moments, and then said, with apparent 
effort, 

'" My babies ! ” And while her whole frame shook with 
emotion, she added, " I will never see them again ! ” 

Flora turned away in tearb. Mrs. Patton sobbed aloud ; 
and the other woman was not much less affected. Flora 
soon recovered her calmness and said, 

"Mrs. Purdy, don’t be so despondent. I think you 
are getting better. You may see your babies again and 
be happy.” 

The two women rose, stepped forward, and remarked, 
kindly and tenderly, 

" Surely you may get well and see your children again. 
Keep a good heart, Mrs. Purdy.” 

When Flora walked away, she felt very sorry for poor 


A GIRL’S LIFE AND WORK. 


189 


LIrs. Purdy. The tender-hearted girl was destined to 
have another trial of the feelings. Mrs. Purdy’s children 
had learned or heard that Flora would return in the morn- 
ing. Early in the day, they went to the front gate, stood, 
or walked about, and watched for her. They waited 
and looked, as they must have thought, a long time. At 
length, the children saw Flora coming, and ran to meet 
her, each one having a question to ask or something to 
say. 

" How is mother ? ” asked Bessy. 

” Why didn’t you fetch mamma ? ” cried Mary. 

I want my mamma,” little Tommy said as well as he 
could. 

Flora was deeply touched. However, she was glad to 
see that the children were still very well. She comforted 
them, and led them back to the house. She had the 
great pleasure of seeing that her mother had no illness, 
and had quite recovered from her fatigue. While meet- 
ing a trial which had not been foreseen, she was saved 
from a trial which had been greatly feared. 

Flora Calvert, with short intervals of rest, nursed Mrs. 
Purdy for several days and nights. At one time the 
sick woman seemed to be better ; then she seemed to be 
worse. One evening Mrs. Purdy suddenly cried out, 

'' O that I had a drink of cold water ! I am suffering, 
suffering, suffering ! ” The poor woman had taken many 
warm drinks ; but they had done no good, — at any 
rate, had not allayed her thirst. Flora pitied the sufferer, 
and said, resolutely, 

" I will give you a drink of cold water.” 

"O no,” said the woman, ”the doctor forbids it; I 
suppose it would kill me.” 

"Iain not sure of that,” Flora remarked. "The 
Hemsteads, you remember, had the fever. Without any 
permission from the doctor, I opened the windows and 


190 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


aired the house. I did more : in direct violation of the 
doctor’s order, I gave Sammy a drink of cold water, when he 
cried for it, and I could bear his cries no longer. Sammy 
has always declared that the drink saved his life, — that, 
without it, he would have died as his brother did. When 
calomel is taken in large quantities, then, for aught I 
know, cold water may be dangerous. But I think you 
are not taking calomel, Mrs. Purdy.” 

" Give me a drink. Flora,” said the suffering woman. 
" I am going to die at any rate ; I need not suffer so 
much.” 

will give you a drink,” said the nurse. "But you 
must not talk in that way. Don’t you wish to live and 
see your children ? ” 

" O my babies ! might I see my babies again ! ” was the 
woman’s sorrowful cry. 

Flora Calvert, anticipating a great reform in medical 
practice, administered cold water to the suffering woman. 
The cold water may not have cured her ; besides allaying her 
thirst, it may not have conferred any special benefit ; but 
it is certain that the water did not kill her, or do any 
special harm. Mrs. Purdy began to grow better. The 
nurse could see improvement every day. 

Happily, in late years, when a regard for the laws and 
powers of nature, and not tradition, prejudice, or igno- 
rance, rules the medical profession, fever patients, small- 
pox patients, and patients of all kinds, are permitted to 
enjoy both air and water. Perhaps, in our times, there 
are physicians who go to another extreme, being satisfied 
with nothing and devoted to empyricism. 

Purdy returned home unexpectedly. Charles Calvert, 
without Mrs. Purdy’s knowledge, had written, informing 
him of his wife’s illness, and urging his immediate return. 
Purdy entered the house, abruptly. Flora was present, 
and saw the meeting of the husband and wife. Mrs. 


A GIRUS LIFE AND WORK. 


191 


Purdy tried to smile. If there be such things as " mourn- 
ful smiles,” her smile must have been one of that kind. 
Purdy also tried to smile. But his smile was maudlin, — 
the smile of a man stupefied and debased by drink, — the 
smile of one who had lost all manhood, virtue and sensi- 
bility. 

Purdy brought home no money. As was learned after- 
wards, the tavern-keeper at Evansburgh had taken his 
last shilling, when he was nearly in sight of home. Such 
was, and is, the state of society, that men are virtually 
authorized, by law, to promote vice, crime and suffering; 
to pauperize families without number ; to impose enormous 
burdens on the community, — in order that they — the 
gentlemen of the licensed hotels and saloons — may get 
money. So Purdy got a dram, the tavern-keeper got a 
shilling, and the sick woman at home got nothing. 
Purdy’s arrival simply added to the burdens of the 
people. 

Mrs. Purdy recovered. No other case of small-pox 
occurred in the neighborhood at that time. The people 
were delivered from great apprehensions and fears. 

When Mrs. Purdy had sufficiently recovered, and the 
house had been disinfected as far as possible, Mrs. Calvert 
proposed to return the children. Flora led them home. 
The little ones went with bounding hearts and skipping 
feet. But their kind friend and conductor felt constrained 
to say something. 

” Children,” said Flora, ” your mother, you know, has 
been sick. She does not look just as she did. Her face 
is not just what it was, but it will look better after a while. 
When you see her, don’t show any fear ; don’t look at her 
face at all.” 

Flora and the little ones entered the house. 

The children, in despite of the forewarning, were 
surprised, and, for a moment, shrunk away from the 


192 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


woman who met them. But they heard a familiar voice ; 
they saw something like the old smile ; they recognized 
their dear mother; and they rushed into her arms. 
Flora witnessed the joyful meeting between the mother 
and her " babies ; ” and she felt that the pleasure which 
this spectacle afforded her was a great reward for her 
toils and vigils. Yet, having taken another look at the 
poverty and wretchedness of the place, and having re- 
flected, for a moment, on the dark prospect before the 
family, she went away with a feeling of great sadness. 

When Flora reached home, Charley met her at the door. 
He was extremely happy. 

”It is all over now,” Charley exclaimed, " and you are 
safe. I have thought so often about Aunt Molly lately. 
She would be a beautiful woman if it were not for the 
small-pox. I am inexpressibly glad. Flora, that your 
pretty face has received no damage.” 

Flora smiled, and replied with some appearance of 
gayety. 

”Yes, Charley, it is all over now; and while my face 
is no worse, my heart, I believe, is better.” 

Mrs. Calvert stood behind Charley, and certainly looked 
at Flora with pride and pleasure. At the same time, she 
thanked the Supreme Father for the preservation of her 
child. 


CHAPTER XXH. 

EXPERIENCES. 

Flora Calvert did not, even during the sickly years, 
spend all her time in hard work and in visiting and nurs- 
ing sick people. She had her recreations. Friendly 
visits gave her many pleasant hours. Now and then, 


EXPERIENCES. 


193 


especially in the summer time, little nephews and nieces 
came in crowds, and gave her special employment and 
pleasure. These little folks liked their grandmother, for 
she was very kind. They liked Charley too, for he was 
very funny. But they liked Flora best. Why? When 
she had time. Flora rambled about with the children, gather- 
ing flowers in the meadow, or spring-berries and moun- 
tain-tea in the woods. Sooner or later, she found a log, a 
mossy stone, or a grassy bank, sat down, gathered the 
little ones around her, and told them a story. The 
children liked the ramble, but they liked the story more. 
Beyond all question, they preferred their aunt’s story to 
their uncle’s nonsense, and even to their grandmother’s 
maple sugar. Flora’s kindness and stories won their 
little hearts. They could not help but love her who gave 
them so much delight. Why has the race of story-tellers 
passed away? True, men and women are writing stories 
for children ; but a story heard, when the eyes, face, 
hands and sympathies, besides the tongue, are speaking, 
is ten times jbetter than a story read in a book. Why, 
Flora Calvert often shed tears while telling one of her own 
stories, and the little hearers invariably wept with her. 
Then, when a story ended happily, and her face, voice 
and gesture, gave expression to her pleasurable emotions, 
the little folks clapped their hands and raised a joyous 
shout. 

Sugar-making was an important business in the country. 
It usually commenced about the first of March, and con- 
tinued through the month. Young people enjoyed the 
sugar-making season. It varied their labors. It gave 
them a pleasant excitement. It allowed them to live 
awhile in the woods, and the woods were always attractive, 
especially to boys. But sugar-making was profitable. 
People, not only supplied themselves, but supplied the 
towns, with sugar and molasses. Young people often 


194 


KONKEAUTT LAKE. 


purchased their Sunday, clothes, even their wedding suits, 
by the sale of these commodities. 

The ” sugar-camp ” was commonly in the woods, and 
sometimes was remote from any dwelling. It was rather 
picturesque and interesting. Five or six iron kettles were 
suspended in a row. A huge log, called the ” back-log,” 
lay at one side ; a smaller log, called the ” fore-stick,” 
lay at the other ; the space between the logs was a sort 
of furnace, receiving the fuel and supplying the necessary 
heat. A cabin or shed, open in front, stood near the fire. 
It was constructed of small logs and covered with clap- 
boards. It always contained a bench, and it sometimes 
contained a couch, on which a person could take a nap. 
As the chinks in the walls were filled with moss, and a 
great fire blazed in front, the hut was commonly warm 
and comfortable, even in the coldest weather. Vessels in 
the. shape of barrels and hogsheads, or in the shape of 
long troughs, lay or stood around, holding what some 
called ” sugar-water ” and others called ''sap.” Small 
troughs, formed of pine, cucumber, and other suitable 
timber, lay at the trees, receiving the sweet liquid as it 
fell. 

Sugar-making was a laborious business. In bad 
weather it was decidedly unpleasant. The labors of the 
camp were often divided, or distributed among the mem- 
bers of a family. The father or grown sons made and 
placed the troughs, tapped the trees, set the kettles, and 
built the cabin. Boys provided fuel, and gathered the 
water, hauling or carrying it to the camp. Girls attended 
the camp, filled the kettles, added fuel when necessary, 
and stirred the molasses passing into sugar. Sometimes, 
however, men and boys did all the work ; and sometimes 
girls and married women gathered the water as well as 
superintended the boiling. 

The young people of the country, as has been observed. 


EXPERIENCES. 


195 


were much inclined to associate pleasure with work. 
8ugar-making had some pleasant accompaniments. 
Young people often visited neighboring camps. When 
two or three parties, by accident or design, met at a camp, 
ate fresli sugar or sipped fresh syrup, and engaged in a 
general frolic, there were lively times and much real 
amusement. 

Charles Calvert and his sister made sugar every season. 
Sometimes they had help, and sometimes they had none. 
During one season they were aided by a young boy. 
When business was pressing. Flora and the boy attended 
the camp during the first part of the night, and Charles 
attended it alone during the latter part. 

Flora Calvert was commonly regarded as a heroine. 
Her high character as a brave girl was acquired when 
contagious and deadly diseases prevailed in the com- 
munity. Her courage was now tested in a new way. 

One night Charles reached the camp at an early hour. 
He said tliat Flora might go home ; but as a great part 
of the night was before him, and he wished for a little 
companionship as well as a little help, he suggested tliat 
the boy should remain. Flora assented cheerfully to the 
proposed arrangement, and started alone, leaving Charles 
preparing fuel. A forest, about half a mile in extent, 
intervened between the camp and the open fields. There 
was some moonlight, and Flora could easily follow the 
path. The forest was gloomy ; but the girl had no fears. 
If slie had been timid, she might have been often startled 
by dark shadows, even by gleams of moonshine, by the 
creaking of intertwined limbs, and by the whistling of 
the wind as it swept among the branches of the lofty 
pine. If she had been timid, she might have fancied that 
she saw specters or savages, wolves or panthers, and 
heard sobs and moans, shrieks and terrible cries. If she 
had been timid and suspicious, she might have begun to 


196 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


think that a bad character had been prowling about the 
camp, and was still watching her movements. Indeed, 
if Flora had been suspicious, and had listened sharply, 
she would actually have heard a pretty regular tramp and 
the frequent breaking of a limb, on a line parallel with 
her path, and distant only a few rods. But, as the girl 
walked on, perfectly free from both timidity and sus- 
picion, she saw nothing, heard nothing, feared nothing. 

Flora had reached the middle of the wood, and was pro- 
ceeding with slow steps and with perfect unconcern. Sud- 
denly, she heard a terrible shriek or scream. It seemed 
to come from a point near the road and rather in advance 
of her position. Of course, in despite of bravery, she 
was very much startled. She stopped and listened. 
" What is it ? ” Flora asked herself. ” Is it a panther or 
wild-cat, or only an owl? I wonder if Charley hears.” 
Charley was splitting wood at the moment, and heard 
nothing. Presently there was another shriek. It was 
quite different from the first. " That is not the scream 
of a panther, or the howl of a wolf, or the cry of a night- 
bird,” Flora said to herself. "It is the yell of a man.” 
A low, continuous growl was heard for a minute or two. 
Then there was a third shriek. It differed from the first, 
and it differed from the second. ” I know what it is,” 
Flora said, using real words, but speaking in very low 
tones. "It is Ike Kloster. He wants to scare me ; he 
is seeking revenge ; or he is hired by some wicked fellows 
to come here and try my courage. Well, I am not much 
afraid of Ike.” 

. Ike Kloster was a low character. Some people thought 
that he was partly idiotic. Others believed that he was 
brutal rather than simple. All respectable people avoided 
him as much as possible. Ike was the only man who had 
ever given Flora Calvert any serious annoyance. Urged, 
as she believed, by others, he had followed her steps for a 


EXPERIENCES. 


197 


long time, although she had repelled him with loathing — 
sometimes with fierce anger and fiery words. 

Flora deliberated whether she should advance or return 
to the camp. At last, reflecting that an attempt to return 
would show fear, and, possibly, bring danger, and know- 
ing that the distance to the fields was about the same as the 
distance to the camp, she determined to proceed. She 
walked forward twenty or thirty yards, and then heard 
something like a growl or bark. It was very near the path. 
She stopped, peered into the darkness, but at first discerned 
no living creature. Continuing to look and listen sharply, 
she began to hear a rustling among the leaves and a noise 
like the purring of a cat. Presently she distinguished the 
outlines, not of a man, but of a large four-footed animal. 
Flora almost ceased to live. But she was soon able to 
think ; and she asked herself, "Is it really a wild beast — 
panther or wolf? or is it Ike Kloster on his hands and 
knees, imitating a wild beast and trying to scare me?” 

Flora started again, and walked fast. Still inclined to 
think that her enemy was Ike Kloster, she resolved not to 
run, lest she might give him the triumph which he sought, 
and encourage him to persist in his malignant efforts : at 
the same time, she felt that, to be prepared for a battle 
with her enemy — man or beast — she must reserve her 
strength, and not exhaust it by efforts that might be worse 
than fruitless. Having walked forty or fifty yards, she 
paused and listened. She heard distinctly a heavy, rapid 
tramp, and a crashing among the dead branches of fallen 
timber, the tramp and noise advancing in the direction in 
which she was going, and on a line only two or three rods 
from her path. Flora’s heart seemed to make a bound, 
and then to stop altogether. She was convinced in a 
moment that her enemy — man or beast — was rushing 
forward to intercept her flight. She now felt that she 
must run — run for her life. She started and ran at her 


198 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


utmost speed. She had the advantage of a straight, 
smooth road, while the enemy might have been flounder- 
ing among logs and brush. Having run several hundred 
yards, she stopped to listen and to recover breath. She 
heard a noise behind her : turning a little, she observed 
that something entered the road. Flora stood in deep 
shadow, and could not have been readily seen by human 
eyes. Her enemy happened to stop where the moonshine 
reached, the ground ; and she distinctly saw the figure of 
a man. She was now certain that her enemy was Ike 
Kloster. He stood perfectly still, and looked back, no 
doubt watching for the girl whom he intended to frighten 
or capture. 

But the sharp-sighted girl saw his mistake, and took 
advantage of it instantly. She walked away softly, kept 
in the shadows as much as possible, and glanced back 
almost every moment. As she advanced, her step became 
faster and faster. She still glanced around, but saw no 
enemy. She soon entered a field, looked back, saw no 
pursuer, then ran at her highest speed, reached home, and 
had the sweet consciousness that she was safe. Yet she 
could hardly restrain herself from rushing into her mother’s 
chamber and throwing herself into her mother’s arms. 

Flora Calvert said nothing about her terrible experience. 
She did not give a hint of it even to her mother. But at 
a later time, when Flora believed that her days were 
about to close on earth, she revealed to her brother some 
of the secrets of her life, and, among others, her frightful 
adventure in the dark woods. 

As time progressed, Flora Calvert began to lose the 
special companionship of early and dear friends. Mar- 
riage entered the social circle and made important 
changes. Jane Folsom was a year or two younger than 
Flora Calvert, and had a lighter and gayer disposition. 
Yet Jane and Flora had a strong mutual attachment ; they 


EXPERIENCES. 


199 


were often together ; and they greatly enjoyed each other’s 
society. Jane was frank and honest as well as lively, and 
was generally liked by the people, 

A Mr. Durham, journeying towards the West, hap- 
'pened to stop at Konneautt Lake, He saw Miss Jane 
Folsom and was charmed by the lively girl. He con- 
cluded to stay awhile in the neighborhood. Before many 
months had elapsed, Mr. Durham came to Jane, at an 
early hour of the day, and solemnly declared that he 
could not live without her. Explaining the matter a little, 
he said that, unless she would consent to be his wife, he 
would — not kill himself or die broken-hearted, but — 
resume his journey towards the West. Jane believed 
Mr. Durham’s story, pitied him, and agreed to save his 
life, or prevent his departure, — that is, to marry him. 
Mr. Durham and Miss Folsom were married ; and they 
soon occupied a house of their own. Jane was a young 
wife ; but it may be presumed that she was a happy one. 

In a new country, people marry early in life, and usually 
have many children ; in an old country, people marry, if 
they marry at all, comparatively late, and commonly have 
small families. In a new country, young people may 
sometimes marry thoughtlessly and rashly ; in an old 
country, people, grown rich and luxurious, fond of ease 
and devoted to pleasure, foolishly and wickedly depreciate 
what Gh)d has declared to be the greatest earthly blessings 
— wedded love, the "fruitful vine,” and "olive plants 
around the table.” 

Jane, it may be conceded, did not think much about 
the future ; she did not think at all about a " settlement,” 
an equipage, silk dresses and jewelry, or a good position in 
society. If she thought about motherhood and a large 
family, she felt no terrors. Trusting in her Maker, as 
well as in Mr. Durham and herself, she fearlessly assumed 
her new position in life. 


200 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Flora had always regarded Charles as her best friend, 
of course excepting her mother. Charles and Flora were 
the youngest members of the Calvert family. They had 
been left, in their childhood, by brothers and sisters who- 
married and went away. They grew up together, loved 
each other most tenderly, were companions almost con- 
stantly, and hardly ever dreamed of a separation. Yet 
Flora was left, or seemed to be left, by her dear brother. 
The time came when Charles Calvert carried home the 
fair-haired girl whom he had first seen at Mr. Bilworth’s, 
and to whom he had been introduced by Tom McConnell’s 
bride. Leaving the old homestead, he built a house for 
himself, and made improvements in accordance with his 
own judgment and taste. 

Flora still met Jane now and then, and she saw Charles 
frequently; but a change had come, — in fact, a real 
separation had occurred, and the poor girl, in despite of 
her piety, good sense and busy life, felt lonely and sad. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

TWO MEN ALIKE AND NOT ALIKE. 

Two men, Henry Stafford and John Branley, met at 
Konneautt Lake. These two men were alike in some 
respects and different in others. 

They were not much alike in personal appearance. 
Both were tall ; but while Stafford was large and muscular, 
Branley was comparatively slender and delicate. Both 
had active dispositions. Both had much intelligence. 
Both had literary tastes. Both were ambitious ; but their 
ambition did not lead them in the pursuit of the same 
objects. Stafford aspired to be a great business man, and 


TWO MEN— ALIKE AND NOT ALIKE. 


201 


he contemplated a removal to a sea-board city, and the 
establishment of a great commercial house. He aimed at 
civil honors, and fancied that a seat in the State Legisla- 
ture, and even a seat in Congress, could be attained in a 
few years. He also aspired to a place among people dis-^ 
tinguished for wealth, culture and refinement. Branley 
aspired to scholarship, but beyond that, or apart from that, 
had scarcely any definite object. 

Literary tastes brought these men together and made 
them intimate. During two winters they often met, and 
discussed scientific and literary questions. • Branley had a 
high opinion of Staiford, and, while discovering some 
imperfections, believed that his intelligence, probity and 
noble spirit, entitled him to the first place as a leader in 
society. 

Mr. Branley led a very busy life after he left Konneautt 
Lake. He did not forget Flora Calvert, but he tried to 
forget her. He tried to exclude her from his thoughts by 
continuous, absorbing occupation. He attended the 
academy during a few months. He taught school another 
term. He performed a large amount of agricultural 
labor. 

During a certain period, he earnestly considered one 
subject — the choice of a profession or business. His 
mind was attracted in different ways. His literary 
tastes suggested and magnified a professorship. His 
ambition suggested the law, and invested it with a sort of 
halo. The schemes and glowing words of Stafford gave a 
splendor to commerce. And his love of freedom and the 
country did not permit him to overlook the claims of agri- 
culture. He reached a conclusion at last ; and, having 
made a choice, his mind wavered no more. 

Mr. Branley did not decide in favor of a professorship. 
The idea of spending his life as a teacher of common 
schools was nqt pleasant ; and the idea of preparing him- 


202 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


self, by a long course of hard study, for a professorship in 
a respectable institution, was formidable, — indeed, con- 
sidered in connection with his age and means, appeared 
quite preposterous. He believed that his education would 
serve for all common business, and even for some of the 
professions ; and he resolved that it should suffice. 

Mr. Branley did not study law. At one time the legal 
profession attracted him powerfully. To stand in a court 
of justice, defending innocence, or pleading for right, 
seemed to be a noble and worthy business. To stand in 
the forum, like an orator of antiquity, declaiming against 
oppression and robbery,’ and extolling patriotism and 
virtue, seemed to be the grandest position, and to confer the 
highest honor, attainable by a citizen. The Judge who 
visited Branley’s school at Konneautt Lake actually 
called the youth into his office and advised him to study 
law, presenting strong inducements. Yet when he had a 
fair look at realities, — when he entered the court-house 
a number of times, heard the lawyers wrangling, observed 
their attempts to browbeat and confuse witnesses, to mis- 
lead juries, and defeat justice, and learned that all was 
done for pay, — when, in addition, he noticed their per- 
petual contact with human nature in its most repulsive 
forms, he turned away from courts and lawyers in disgust, 
and felt that it was morally impossible for him to enter 
the legal profession. Refusing to be a lawyer, Mr. 
Branley had no chance of ever becoming a President 
Judge, and had little chance of ever attaining a seat in 
Congress. 

Nor did he go to the city and engage in commerce or 
some other great business, in order to amass a fortune 
and become a great man. The glory that encircles the 
merchant prince,” the ''great banker,” the " millionnaire,” 
attracting thousands of youth from the country, did not, 
in the smallest degree, dazzle his eyes and mislead his 
judgment, 


TWO MEN— ALIKE AND NOT ALIKE. 


203 


Mr. John Branley chose agriculture as the business of 
his life. He resolved that his home and his work should 
be in the country, lie liked the freedom and indepen- 
dence of rural life, — that is, freedom from the trammels 
of fashion and folly, and independence of the ” wear and 
tear ” that accompany trade, and the hazards and anxie- 
ties that accompany speculation. Besides, Mr. Branley 
loved Nature and rejoiced in her favors. Since he lost 
Flora Calvert, Nature was his sweetheart and companion. 
Trees, plants, flowers, birds, crystal fountains and mur- 
muring rills, were the things which he loved. The vest- 
ment which he now admired was not the neat attire of a 
country maiden, with its few simple ornaments, — still 
less the silk of the grand lady, with its accompaniment of 
laces and jewels ; but the green robe of spring and sum- 
mer, the golden robe of autumn, and the white robe of 
winter, just as it dropped from the clouds. He reveled 
in pure air, in sunshine and shade, and subsisted on milk 
and honey. And, besides all this, the young man was 
convinced that the chance for substantial and permanent 
success in business, for health and long life, for real and 
abiding happiness, was far better in the country than in 
the city. He had deeply sympathized with his father anil 
mother in their life of toil ; but he believed that now, 
when the country had become so much improved and so 
many advantages were enjoyed, he could live in compara- 
tive ease and comfort. At the same time, he believed 
that the country afforded a wide field and every opportu- 
nity for serving God and promoting the interests of 
humanity. 

Branley bought property a few miles distant from his 
native place, cultivated a farm as his principal business, 
and seemed to have a full share of prosperity. He had a 
house and a barn ; he had horses, and cattle, and sheep ; 
and he had the promise of a good harvest. But Mr. John 


204 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Branley had no wife. However, he had no thought of 
passing his days in solitude, much less of committing 
suicide, on account of his disappointment in love. He 
was actually looking and searching for a companion. 
Alas ! he found no woman who could take the place of 
Flora Calvert and satisfy his judgment and his heart. 

Mr. Henry Stafford was also a busy man. He estab- 
lished factories and stores at different places. He watched 
the political field. He pursued his objects with untiring 
energy. Yet he failed seriously, — failed in business, 
failed in political matters, failed in almost everything. 
How a man, with such talents and energy, failed so 
greatly and so continuously, was a mystery to many people. 
It may be presumed that Stafford was visionary and rash, 
or deficient in judgment, — that he engaged in too many 
enterprises, and changed his business too frequently. 

One day, a strange report reached Evansburgh. " Henry 
Stafford has married Maria Bostwick,” was the report which 
passed from house to house, and speedily circulated through 
the whole community. Every person was surprised. Staf- 
ford’s relatives were indignant. The Bostwicks were 
well known. They were very proud and very poor, and 
for reasons, good or bad, were extremely unpopular. 
They lived in an isolated way. Their pride kept them 
from associating with common people ; and their poverty 
excluded them from the society of the rich and fashionable. 

One of the family, by a long course of sharp operations 
in business, acquired wealth ; and, dying without any 
direct heirs, bequeathed his money to his brothers and 
sisters. Maria, of course, received a share. 

Maria was elderly, and had no attraction in face, per- 
son or manners. She was haughty, selfish, acrimonious 
in temper, and, as people generally thought, wholly un- 
fitted for married life. 

How die] it happen that Henry Stafford, the handsome^ 


TWO MEN- ALIKE AND NOT ALIKE. 


205 


talented, popular young man, married Maria Bostwick, 
a woman so faded and disagreeable, so thoroughly disliked 
in the community, and so unfitted to be his wife and com- 
panion? This question was invariably answered in one 
way : "He married her for her money.” It may be pre- 
sumed that Henry Stafford, having a magnificent project 
on hands, and needing money to carry it forward, or, 
which is more probable, being already involved in debt, and 
needing money to prevent bankruptcy and ruin, and hear- 
ing that Maria Bostwick had secured a large share of her 
brother’s cash, notes, and bonds, went, in a fit of excite- 
ment or desperation, and proposed marriage to this 
woman. 

But why did Maria accept the proposal ? That ques- 
tion puzzled the people. One lady said that when 
Stafford was no more than a big boy, Maria regarded him 
with tenderness, and may have loved him still. That 
theory was not confirmed by her subsequent conduct. It 
maybe conjectured that the idea of marrying a handsome, 
aspiring, popular man was agreeable, and had some in- 
fluence. It may also be conjectured that Maria wished to 
get an obedient servant. Some things pertaining to her 
conduct may be stated with certainty : she gave no 
affection ; and she promised no money. 

The result of the incongruous marriage and stupendous 
folly was just what every one expected. Stafford got no 
money. Maria got no servant. Nor did she get any- 
thing that pleased her. Strife began immediately. Bicker- 
ing followed bickering ; quarrel succeeded • to quarrel. 
Stafford and the woman he married scarcely pretended to 
live together. Two or three slight attempts to keep 
house, and live as man and wife, brought contention and 
bitterness, and resulted in speedy separation. Mean- 
while Henry Stafford impaired his standing as an honor- 
able man, and lost much of the sympathy which had been 
given freely when he was unfortunate in business. 


206 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

A SICK LADY. 

Another matter began to agitate the community. 
Flora Calvert was taken ill. A report of her illness 
spread rapidly, and people called to see her. The nature 
of her disease could not be ascertained. Some persons 
expressed the opinion that Flora had a rapid consumption. 
They thought that they could see the " hectic flush ” and 
hear the ominous "hacking cough.” Others believed 
that she had a kind of low fever. A few suspected that 
she might be heart-broken. Many thought she had 
brought on her illness by excessive labors among the 
sick and suflering. 

Contrary to Flora’s wish, — in fact, disregarding her 
earnest remonstrance, some of her anxious friends called 
Dr. Marsden. The doctor professed to understand the 
case perfectly ; but he probably knew nothing about it, 
or no more than others. He laid some medicine on the 
table, gave some directions, promised to return in a few 
days, and departed. 

Charles Calvert visited Flora almost every day. He 
still loved his sister. He could not forget or neglect the 
dear companion of his childhood. He often sat at the 
side of her bed, held her hand, looked into her face, and 
talked on pleasant subjects. He wished to cheer her, and 
do all in his power to promote her recovery. But Charles 
was anxious to ascertain the nature of his sister’s disease. 

"Flora,” he remarked, on one occasion, "both Mrs. 
Hall and Mrs. Patton say that you have overworked your- 
self, visiting and nursing the sick. Did you not last 
week make sugar in the daytime and wait on the Temples 


A SICK LADY. 


207 


every night ? Perhaps fatigue and the want of sleep have 
caused all this trouble.” 

” I do not know whether I have injured myself or not,” 
Flora replied. "But, Charley,” she continued, "I do not 
expect to live long, and I want to do all the good I can 
while I am here. You remember that four years ago I 
gave myself to the Saviour. I promised to obey Him, and 
He says, 'Occupy till 1 come.’ I promised to follow His 
example, and He went about doing good. I must work 
while it is day, for the niglit comes when no one can 
work.” 

"You are a real Christian; you are a true heroine,” 
Charles said, fervently. " But, Flora, a Christian woman 
should take care of her health in order that she may do 
good and be happy. Why may you not see a good old 
age ? Why may you not do more in a long life than in a 
short one ? ” 

"As the Lord pleases,” said Flora, calmly, "I wish to 
work or rest, to live or die.” 

However, Charles began to suspect that Flora’s illness 
was mental rather than physical. He determined to ascer- 
tain the truth. Supposing that a plain question would 
accomplish nothing, he resolved to effect his object by a 
somewhat indirect and gradual process. 

"Flora,” said Charles one day, "I have often wondered 
that you did not marry. I think you are very pretty and 
also right sensible, and I believe every body has the same 
opinion. Many good, moral, respectable young men 
have lived about here. I think that all admired and liked 
you, and I am sure that several — for instance, Tom 
jMcConnell and John Branley — loved you most tenderly. 
Why did you not accept one of your lovers, or encourage 
one of your admirers, and make him happy, — at the 
same time, satisfy your womanly nature and brighten 
your future ? ” 


208 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Charles listened for an answer. Flora, however, was 
quiet for a little time. She seemed to be thinking. At 
length, speaking in a slow, solemn manner, 'she said, 

" I could have married any one of my acquaintances — 
except one ; and, O Charley ! he was the one I wanted ! ” 
Flora covered her face, but she could not suppress a 
sob. Charles was deeply moved, though he was not alto- 
gether taken by surprise. He reflected a moment, and 
then said, tenderly, 

” Flora, I have suspected for a day or two that your 
illness is heartache. You have confirmed my suspicion. 
But until recently I never knew or suspected that you 
loved any body. I cannot imagine who the one is — the 
one you wanted but could not get. That is the mystery 
now. Sister, who is the one?^^ 

With her face still covered and sobs escaping her. 
Flora was just able to articulate, 

" Henry Stafford ! ” 

Charles was now thoroughly surprised as well as moved. 
”I am astonished beyond measure,” he exclaimed. 
never had a suspicion that you regarded that man with 
any special favor. If you had named Lamb run, I should 
not have been so much surprised.” 

Flora made a great effort to be calm, and said, 

George Lambrun was not so bad a fellow as some 
people thought. He was open, resolute, dashing. What- 
ever he wished to do he tried to do at once and to do fully. 
But I cared nothing for Lambrun. My heart was lost 
a long time before I saw him. Charley, you now see 
why Mr. Branley could not be loved. And you see a 
reason, in addition to those you knew before, why Tom 
McConnell had no chance. Yes, Charley,” the sick girl 
continued, with rising emotions, "six years ago, when I 
was fifteen years old, Henry Stafford got my heart ; 
and he has kept it ever since. But, O Charley, my 
heart is crushed and bleeding now ! ” 


A SICK LADY. 


209 


Dear sister, I can weep with you. But how have you 
been able to hide your secret through all these years ? 

"Of course I tried hard to keep the secret in my 
own breast. I made a constant and anxious effort to con- 
ceal it from you, from mother, and from every human 
being. Whether I succeeded fully in concealing it from 
Stafford is a question I cannot answer.” 

" Flora, will you tell me how Stafford gained your 
affections ? ” 

" You can remember that when I was a very young 
girl, he and I were often together. He sometimes came 
to our house, sat, talked and laughed, told stories, and 
sung many songs, most of them about love and marriage. 
Then we frequently met at cliurch and at singing-schools. 
I thought he was very handsome and very smart. I 
thought he was a charming talker and singer. Everybody 
liked him, and that assured me that he was a man of su- 
perior qualities and merit. Besides all this, he seemed to 
like me ; he certainly* showed me much attention. Was 
it not natural that I should begin to care for him ? ” 

"It was natural, almost inevitable,” said Charles. "I 
knew that Stafford was always very respectful and atten- 
tive to you ; and I now wonder that I did not think more 
about probable results. I believe that Mr. Branley, at 
one time, watched Stafford closely, and felt more or less 
jealousy. But, Flora, I want to learn something more. 
Did Stafford try to get your affections ? And has he tried 
to keep them ? ” 

Flora was now willing to talk about her secret, which, 
indeed, was a secret no longer. She proceeded to answer 
her brother’s questions. 

"I do not know, certainly, that Stafford ever pur- 
posely made an effort to win my heart, or that he ever 
purposely made an effort to keep it. On the other hand„ 
I do not know that he ever made an effort to show me 


210 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


that his attentions were common civility and nothing 
more. Something I do know : his attentions, whether he 
designed it or not, won my regard at first, and his atten- 
tions, offered as he had opportunity, kept my regard till 
the day of his marriage. 

"Let me tell you, Charley, what happened in the fall 
preceding Mr. Branley’s last school. You and I went to 
town — don’t you remember? — we met Henry Stafford, 
and he said, 'Flora, I have got a new skiff' and a new 
flute. Come and see the skiff, take a sail, and I will 
supply the music.’ I turned to you and said, 'Charley, 
what will I do?’ And you replied, 'Go and try the new 
skiff. I will do some business in the store, call at the 
})Ost-office, and meet you at the landing.’ I went, saw 
the new skiff, entered, and sat down. Stafford took the 
oars, rowed the skiff out into the lake two or three 
hundred yards from the shoi’e, then let it float hither and 
thither as the light breeze happened to move it. Stafford, 
laying down the oars, took up his flute and played 
several beautiful airs. The town’s people heard the music, 
and a dozen or more came to the bank and listened. 
Then Henry laid down his flute and began to talk. He 
was unusually sober ; he seemed to be embarrassed — I 
never saw him embarrassed before. I began to think he 
was about to say something of a very important nature, 
— something that would be deeply interesting to myself. 
I beo^an to tremble — O if he saw it ! Having; said a 
word or two ’about the skiff and the flute, he began to talk 
about himself ; and he used these very words, which I 
have treasured up in my memory : 'Flora, I am a citizen 
of the world; I am homeless, friendless, solitary, un- 
happy. My way of life is not good — is it. Flora? It 
might be greatly improved — don’t you think so? AVell, 
jiext summer 1 will make a change ; I will settle down ; 
I will have a new kind of life, and I hope it will be better 


A SICK LADY, 


211 


and happier than the old one.’ I said nothing. I listened, 
and trembled violently. I was now sure that Henry was 
going to make a declaration and a request of the highest 
importance to both of us. But he ceased talking, took 
up the oars, moved the skiff back and forward for a 
minute or two, laid down the oars, took up the flute, 
played a few airs, ceased playing, and held the flute in 
one hand. He said nothing more, and my heart sunk 
within me. At last I was compelled to say, 'Henry, the 
sun is down, and Charley is waiting for me ; I must go.’ 
We went ashore, and walked up on the bank; you stood 
there as I expected ; but one stood there whom I had not 
expected at all — Mr. eTohn Branley. I thought Mr. 
Branley looked hurt or offended, but I am sure I felt 
kindly towards him. Then you and I went home. I 
never forgot Stafford’s words ; and those words never 
ceased to have an influence. 

” Now, Charley, I must tell you what happened in the 
following spring. You remember that we were present 
at the close of the school. Well, Mr. Branley and I 
took a walk along the bank of the lake. We found a 
log, sat down, and looked at the water. We talked about 
the gulls and the swans ; and then Mr. Branley began to 
talk about something else. O Charley, can I tell you 
all ! Mr. Branley offered me his love and asked for mine 
in return. I could say nothing. I could not tell him 
my secret. I durst not explain why I could not return 
his love. I could not speak at all ; I could do nothing 
but weep. At the same time, while thus solicited by one 
whom I so highly esteemed, and for whom my heart 
really bled, I was true and unwavering in my secret 
allegiance. I recalled the words, 'Next summer I will 
make a change, — I will have a new life;’ and those 
words held me fast. So Mr. Branley and I parted — 
parted good friends ; but there was great sorrow on both 


212 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


sides. The summer came and passed ; another summer 
followed ; and still another ; but the ' change ’ and the 
'new life,’ as these were pictured to me, never came. 

" A report that StalFord was courting this or that girl 
reached me now and then. You may remember that 
when we were at Mount Hope, a few years ago, one of 
the party said that Stafford was paying attention to Betsy 
McLean. When Henry knew or suspected that such a 
report had come to my .ears, he was sure, at the first 
opportunity, to speak of the report to me, and denounce 
it as the invention of gossips. But, in fact, whenever 
we met, and had opportunities for conversation — at a 
wedding, for instance — he always said or did something 
that was soothing or flattering, and that virtually prom- 
ised great things in the future. When we met last, a 
few months ago, Stafford said, 'Flora, I have been work- 
ing hard to gather some property, and be prepared to 
settle down in a new kind of life. But I have been un- 
fortunate. Perhaps I shall be more successful hereafter, 
and be able to accomplish my wishes.’ Success never 
came to Stafford, and the realization of my dreams never 
came to me, and now cannot come. 

" Charley, what do you think of Henry’s conduct ? 
His words implied everything and formally promised 
nothing. Was his course right? Was it manly? Was 
it generous ? O Charley ! was it not — ” 

Flora did not finish the sentence. Perhaps she had 
been tempted to ask, "Was it not deceitful, cruel, 
wicked?” Charles offered an opinion. 

" Implied promises are as binding as formal promises, 
and a violation of one kind is as criminal as a violation 
of the other. But I never supposed that Henry Stafford 
would intentionally deceive any one.” 

" O Charley, I do not say, and I will not say, that he 
purposely deceived me,” Flora remarked, with much 


A SICK LADY. 


213 


earnestness. "But he somehow made me believe and ex- 
pect everything.” 

"Flora,” said Charles, "Henry Stafford liked you and 
wanted you ; his misfortunes tempted him to marry Maria 
Bostwick.” 

"His misfortunes, then,” said Flora, with uneontrol- 
lable emotion, "have brought great misery — misery to 
himself — misery to me ! ” 

" My dear sister,” Charles now remarked, earnestly, 
" say no more. The case is plain. I understand your 
illness perfectly. You have the heartache. I do not 
blame you for anything. Henry Stafford was a splendid 
man, and he gave you abundant reason to think that you 
were the object of his love and his hopes. It was natural 
and proper that you should have liked him. It is natural 
and proper that you should grieve now. I sympathize 
deeply with you, sister. Heartache is hard to bear. I 
have had it myself, and I know what it is. But heartache 
is curable. I have been cured completely. And, Flora, 
you can and must be cured. You must and shall return 
to the world again, and be an ornament and a blessing to 
society. You must and shall make some one happy. 
You must and shall be happy yourself.” 

After this burst of passionate eloquence, Charles rose 
up, pressed his sister’s hand affectionately, and walked 
out of the house. He stood or walked in the front yard 
avdiile, thinking, perhaps planning. He reentered the 
house, spoke to his mother, and imparted the information 
which he had just received from Flora. She was less 
surprised than he had been, and remarked, 

" I have suspected for a long time that Flora had a 
secret trouble, or, at least, a secret mental occupation. 
She was often silent, yet evidently thinking, or occupied 
with something apart from her work and apart from 
society. I did not think she was very unhappy ; but I 


2i4 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


fancied that her mind, rather against her will, was en- 
grossed by something far away — far away in space (jr far 
away in time. And, Charley, I have had another fancy. 
Flora is really a good girl ; she desires to honor God ; she 
wishes to serve her fellow-beings. But I have fancied 
that she sought occupation among the poor, sick and 
distressed, partly to relieve her mind from annoying re- 
flections. And all the time I suspected that either Staf- 
ford or Branley had a place in her thoughts and a con- 
nection with her trouble. So my suspicions are confirmed. 
When Flora was weakened by excessive watching and 
nursing, — when she was depressed in spirit by your 
marriage and departure from us, — when she had not 
received a single note of warning from Stafford or any 
one, the blow came, and she fell. She has, as you know, 
a most sensitive nature, and when she suffers she suffers 
terribly. But Flora has a strong mind, and will rise 
again.” 

"Yes,” remarked Charles, "Flora is strong-minded and 
will rise ; but we must aid her as far as possible ; and I 
am just now thinking about something that may be 
done.” 

Charles returned to Flora’s chamber. Peaceful as the 
lake when not a zephyr plays over its surface, serene as 
the blue sky, bright and sweet as a beam of the morning, 
appeared the sick girl’s face. Flora looked as if she had 
left the world, with its excitements and hopes, as well as 
its disappointments and troubles. She lay on her couch 
like one in a trance. Her eyes gazed upwards ; her 
thoughts appeared to be plaeed on something beyond the 
stars — the things unseen and eternal. " If there can be 
a spiritual face, that is one,” Charles said to himself. He 
stood and looked at Flora with wonder and admiration. 
But he had a purpose and could not surrender it. He 
pronounced her name in a subdued, gentle voice. Flora 


A SICK LADY. 


215 


heard, turned her head, and looked at him. She was 
instantly back in tire world. Charles actually saw tears 
and heard sobs again. He was convinced that he saw, 
not a spirit, but a woman, or a being with a human heart 
and a human sorrow. 

"Dear sister,” remarked Charles, "I wish to find some 
balm that will heal your wounded heart. That I may be 
enabled to see what will suit the case and to bring it 
forth, I propose to make some inquiries. Will you 
listen. Flora?” 

" O yes, Charley,” she said, " I will listen, and answer 
too, if I can.” 

" Have you forgotten Mr. Branley ? ” Charles asked. 

"No, indeed,” she replied. "I think about him often. 
I have thought about him to-day.” 

" Well, I am sure he has not forgotten you. Flora. I 
hear from him now and then, and know pretty well what 
he remembers. Sister, have you not a very high esteem 
for Mr. Branley ? ” 

"Yes,” Flora answered, promptly and emphatically. 
" He has a superior mind, noble principles, a good heart, 
a most generous nature.” 

" Do you not regard him as a very pleasant young 
man ? ” 

" I do,” she replied. " He was a very pleasant man 
three years ago, and I presume he is yet.” 

" Do you not believe. Flora, that, if your heart had 
been free, Mr. Branley would have won it by his fine 
qualities and his respectful, earnest, long-continued at- 
tentions ? ” 

" I believe — I have no doubt of it — if my heart had 
not been pre-engaged when Mr. Branley offered me his 
love, he should have had my love in return. Perhaps I 
made a greivous mistake when I kept my thoughts fixed 
upon one who really offered me nothing, and refused to 


21(3 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


think of another who offered me everything, and who was 
worthy of all that I could give. I have lost the love and 
companionship of a noble young man.” 

" Enough ! enough ! ” cried Charles. " I have found 
the balm, and it shall be brought forth. You shall be 
cured. Flora.” 

Charles rose hastily, went into another room, sat down, 
and wrote a letter. It was addressed to John Branley. 
No letters had ever passed between Mr. Branley and Miss 
Calvert. But Mr. Branley and Charles Calvert had cor- 
responded, and were pretty well acquainted with each 
other’s affairs. It may be presumed that, through the 
brother’s agency, Mr. Branley had occasionally learned 
something about Flora. Charles bid good-by to his 
mother and sister, went to Evansburgh, mailed his letter, 
and returned home. 


CHAPTER XXY. 

THE SICK LADY CUBED. 

Mr. John Branley received a letter, and, recognizing 
Charles Calvert’s penmanship, opened it eagerly. He 
read as follows : 


“Evansburgh, March 20th, 18 — . 

“My Dear John: — 

“ Our Flora is sick, and we are in trouble. People are puzzled in 
regard to the nature of her disease. Some think she has the con- 
sumption. Others think she has a fever. Many believe she has 
simply been overtasked, doing her own work and waiting on sick 
folks. John, I have ascertained the nature of Flora’s illness, and, 
at the same time, I have learned a great secret. Six years ago. Flora 
gave her heart to Henry Stafford. Though he made no formal 
declarations, she had good reason to think that he loved her. In- 
deed, I now feel very sure that he did love her at one time, if not 


THE SICK LADY. 


217 


during all these years. Ambition or misfortune carried him away, Henry 
is now married, and Flora feels a wound. 

“Now, dear John, our Flora has the heartache, and you are the man 
M’ho can cure it. I am sure that you can render this good service. 
Flora has always had a very high esteem, — in fact, a very warm friend- 
ship for you. I am sure — indeed, she has said so — that if her heart had 
been free when she and you became acquainted, it would certainly have 
been given to you. Now, when she is bruized and suffering, — when she 
has heart-sickness, the worst of all, you should come forth; you should 
be the doctor. Flora’s mind is strong, and she will rise above trouble. 
But sympathy will help any one. And your sympathy, dear John, 
will make her sound and well. Forgive her for not curing you when 
you had the heartache. She would have cured you if it had been 
in her power, — that is, if her heart had still been her own. Give her a 
chance now, and see what she can do. You must not think less of Flora 
because she has been attached to another. It is no discredit to her that 
she admired Henry Stafford. We all thought Stafford handsome, tal- 
ented, and noble, and worthy of any woman’s love. It is no discredit 
to Flora that she was so constant in her attachment. What is more val- 
uable in a woman than fidelity ? 

“Let me whisper to you, John, that Flora is as pretty as ever, or 
will be when she is cured. She has now the fairness, bright eyes, 
and pretty smiles, and will have the roses and blushes, the rotund form 
and graceful step, the vivacity and joyousness — the very things you ad- 
mire. 

“ My dear John, we must not let Flora die. Come and cure her, and 
make us all happy. Write soon. 

“ Yours affectionately, 

“CHARLES CALVERT.” 

When Mr. Branley had read the last word, he rose 
from his chair, put on his hat, and walked to the door ; 
then he hastily returned, sat down, and read the letter 
again. A flood of light was poured into his mind. The 
mystery which had been attached to Flora Calvert’s life 
raid conduct disappeared in a moment. The girl’s tears, 
sobs, and speechless anguish, when he sat at her side 
on the banks of Konneautt Lake, offering his love and 
vainly pleading for hers, were perfectly understood. 

Charles Calvert’s letter contained strong pleading. It 
was not necessary. The revelation was enough. In an in- 
stant, SAveet, beauteous Flora came back, and enthroned 
herself in his heart. He tasted the blessedness of re- 


218 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


stored, hopeful love. He was drawn by an irresistible 
inb Lienee. He sprang up, went to the mirror, examined 
bis face and person, stepped to the door and requested a 
hired man to feed his horse, then dressed himself, and 
made all needful preparations for a journey. 

At three o’clock in the afternoon Mr. Branley mounted 
his horse and rode away. He unoved forward rapidly. 
Sometimes there was a dash of rain or sleet ; a cold wind 
met him all the time ; but how little did he care ! A 
delightful warmth pervaded his heart. A new world had 
opened before him, or he had become a new man. He 
had received a sort of inspiration, and not only understood 
the past, but' could see the future clearly. Did Flora’s 
illness give him great distress ? No ; for he knew that 
she would not die. Did the fact that Flora’s illness was 
heartache seriously annoy him? No; for he knew that 
her heart was really sound, and that the ache would soon 
be gone. He had an assurance that he was going, not to 
see Flora die, but to cure her ; not to weep with the dear 
one, but to rejoice with her ; not to see tears and hear 
sobs, as had happened once, but to see smiles and every 
manifestation of a new life and joy ; not to encounter 
defeat and misery, as had happened three years before, 
but to win ample success and blessing. Mr. John Bran- 
ley was ])robably the happiest man in the world. His 
only trouble was the necessity of stopping in his journey 
and staying over night at a tavern. 

A great surprise awaited Flora Calvert. Charles had 
not said a word about his letter, and his promises had 
been misunderstood, or were forgotten. The sick girl 
reclined on her bed, thinking, thinking, — thinking about 
her old associates, thinking now more frequently about 
John Branley than about Henry Stafford. But she 
probably had no more expectation of seeing one than of 
seeing the other. 


THE SICK LADY CURED. 


219 


Mr. Branlcy reached Mrs. Calvert’s at nine o’clock in 
the morning, rode up to the front gate, dismounted in 
haste, walked rapidly to the door, surprised Mrs. 
Calvert by his sudden appearance, surprised her still 
more by refusing to sit down, and declaring that he 
wanted to see Flora. Mrs. Calvert left him standing 
and hurried into Flora’s chamber. As she entered, Flora 
saw in her face an expression of both surprise and pleas- 
ure. The mother said, hastily, 

"Flora, there is a visitor here, and he asks for you. 
Will you see him?” 

" Who is he?” the sick girl inquired. 

"Mr. Branley.” 

" Oh ! ” exclaimed Flora, clasping her hands together. 
The exclamation and the clasping might have indicated 
surprise ; they certainly did not indicate affright or any 
kind of distress. 

"Yes, mother,” said Flora, much excited; "let him 
come in.” 

Mrs. Calvert walked to the door of the sitting-room 
and said, " Come this way, Mr. Branley, and you will 
see her.” She conducted him to the door of Flora’s 
chamber, and then turned back. The young man en- 
tered with a palpitating heart. His only fear, however, 
was that the beloved one might be sadly changed in face 
and person. He walked dmectly to the bed where Flora 
reclined in a wrapper. 

"Flora!” 

" Mr. Branley ! ” 

They could say no more just then. What did Branley 
see? A delicate girl, with a most transparent com- 
plexion, glorious eyes, and a beaming countenance. 
What did Flora see? A man in the bloom and vigor 
of early manhood, with a face that expressed, not only 
intelligence and purity, but the tenderness, the sympathy, 


220 


A'ONNEA UTT LAKE. 


the yearning, of a devoted heart. In an instant, as if 
eifected by spiritual electricity, mutual understanding 
and confidence were established. What years of effort 
had failed to accomplish was accomplished in a moment 
without an effort, and almost without the utterance of 
a word. Branley took the sick girl’s hand, and re- 
marked, 

“Flora, I learned that you were sick, and I have come 
to see you.” 

“I am glad that you have come,” she responded. 

“Flora, I wish to do something for you. Charley 
wrote and gave me some information. But, really, I 
am inspired ; 1 know’ everything ; and I feel that I can 
do everything. Flora, you have the heartache, and I 
have come to cure it.” 

“Mr. Branley!” the sick girl exclaimed, showing 
pleasure rather than surprise. 

“Can I not succeed, Flora?” he inquired, still hold- 
ing her hand. 

“ Perhaps you can,” she:^ replied, looking at him 
kindly and sweetly. 

“ Flora, no one stands between you and me now,” re- 
marked the agitated young man. 

“ No, one,” she repeated, with much emotion. 

“Flora, this hand is mine, and you are mine,” said 
Branley. Then, pressing her hand, and looking earn- 
estly into her face, he asked, in a voice tremulous with 
emotion, “Is it not so? ” 

“ As you please, Mr. Branley,” she answered, in soft, 
sweet tones. 

He stooped dowm and kissed her. Never before had 
Branley used such liberty ; but he now felt that such 
liberty w’as his rightful, conceded privilege. He sat 
down, and looked at Flora, — his own dear girl. He 
was silent for a minute or Wo. At length, the happy 
young man, still clasping the sick girl’s hand, inquired 


THE SICK LADY CURED. 


221 


” My dear Flora, is not your heartache better al- 
ready ? ” 

"I think it is,” she murmured, with a look that seemed 
to be partly a blush and partly a smile. 

He kissed her again to perfect the cure. Both wept ; 
but their tears were the tears of unspeakable joy. 

There are many wounded hearts in the world. Happily, 
wounded hearts, as well as torn flesh and broken bones, 
may be healed. It is certainly possible for a man or a 
woman to love a second time, even when the first object 
of regard is among the living. If it were otherwise, the 
suffering in the world, though very great, would be much 
greater than it is. Sometimes disappointed love leads to 
the commission of suicide. Sometimes it leads to the 
deliberate choice or acceptance of celibacy. Commonly, 
however, the disappointed man or woman, not only seeks 
relief, but seeks it in a rational way. As a plant or vine, 
deprived of its support, throws out its tendrils to find a 
new one, so the desolated heart feels or searches for some- 
thing to supply the place of what has been lost. Some- 
times a poor girl or youth, disappointed in love, and 
becoming desperate and reckless, suddenly marries an 
unworthy person, and plunges into irremediable degrada- 
tion and misery. Flora Calvert was in no danger of 
committing this great folly. She was endowed with ex- 
cellent sense and judgment and great power of self-control, 
and, therefore, could not permit herself to act inconsider- 
ately and rashly. Besides, it so happened that the man 
who offered to fill the vacuum in her heart, or heal its 
wound, was entirely worthy of her love and her hand. 

Mr. Branley, having sat an hour or two with Flora, 
rose up, stepped into the parlor, spoke to Mrs. Calvert, 
walked out of the house, entered the garden, saw no roses 
and no rosy maiden, returned, entered Flora’s chamber, 
and resumed the place which he had just left. He had 


222 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


supreme contentment. He totally forgot the hour of 
grievous failure and disappointment, and the three years 
of loneliness and sorrow. His mind and heart were 
wholly occupied with present, actual happiness. As for 
Flora, she was in a state of pleasurable excitement. Tlie 
long, unyielding attachment, the sympathy and devotion, 
of John Branley, powerfully affected her mind ; and she 
now regarded him with fresh admiration and with the pro- 
foundest gratitude. Surely it was natural, and very 
proper, that esteem, friendship, admiration and gratitude, 
should change, and change rapidly, into the tenderest and 
sweetest of human passions. In fact, Flora began to 
think that she must have always loved, or, at least, very 
much liked, this chivalrous and enthusiastic young man. 

Mr. Branley helped Flora to stand on her feet, then 
compelled her to take a walk. She leaned on his arm, 
and they walked slowly back and forward in the chamber. 

” You see. Flora,” Mr. Branley remarked, "it is good 
to have a support in the world. You could hardly walk 
without my aid.” 

" It is good, no doubt,” she said, quietly ; " provided 
the support is a good one. I have read something about 
a ' broken reed.’ ” 

"Try me. Flora. Always lean on me.” 

" Perhaps you would grow weary.” 

" Never ! never 1 ” 

Next day, Branley and Flora, while supremely happy, 
were comparatively calm and sober. They recollected 
the past, and conversed freely about it. They recalled 
many pleasant scenes and interviews. But they did not 
hesitate to speak of times and events that were associated 
with suffering and sorrow. They were able to speak 
calmly of a meeting on the bank of Konneautt Lake, in 
the evening of a certain October day, when each of them, 
unknown to the other, had an experience of disappoint- 


THE SICK LADY CURED. 


223 


meiit and anguish. Tliey were able even to recall, with- 
out a tear, and with but little agitation, an intensely 
sorrowful parting in the following spring, when, after a 
most painful interview, they bid adieu to each other, ex- 
pecting to meet no more. Of course, they talked about 
the future, now becoming bright and rosy. The young 
man actually introduced the subject of marriage, and 
argued that tliere was no cause for delay. 

"We have been acquainted four or five years,” he said. 
"We are old enough. I am twenty-five, and you are 
twenty-one. We are, perhaps, nearly as wise as we shall 
ever be ; at any rate, we may venture upon the sea of 
matrimony. Your mother, I think, should offer no ob- 
jections now.” 

The fact that he was talking to a sick girl did not occur 
to his mind. Flora listened calmly and kindly. She was 
neither surprised or alarmed. Still, a little thought, ob- 
truding itself now and then, gave her some trouble. It 
was not about her illness — she, too, had forgotten that 
— butsomething else. At length, her troublesome thought 
found expression in words. 

"Are you sure, Mr. Branley, that you will never feel a 
pang, and that your love will not be weakened, when you 
remember that I had first, and for so many years, given 
my thoughts to another?” 

"I am sure, I am sure, dear Flora, it will be as we 
wish,” Branley replied, speaking most earnestly. " Your 
admiration for Stafford proved the excellency of your 
judgment and taste. Then I know that you did not give 
your love without solicitation on his part. He certainly 
loved you ; but ambition or misfortune, as Charley says, 
carried him away. And your constancy. Flora, proves 
that you possess a quality of the very highest order and 
value. Your honor is as spotless as the fresh snow. 
Your heart is healed ; it is perfectly whole and sound ; 


224 


KOXNEAUTT LAKE. 


and it is mine. I feel no pangs, and I never shall feel 
any. My love cannot be weakened by reflections on. your 
past life. Dear Flora, jmu need have no fear.” 

” You are very generous, Mr Branley,” said Flora. 
Her little troublesome thought was gone, never to return. 

"Providence has been leading us,” Mr. Branley now re- 
marked. "Providence led me to Evansburgh — led me 
along the bank of the lake, where I saw a sweet maiden 
whom I never forgot, — the one before my eyes. Provi- 
dence led me to the old meeting-house, where I heard a 
sermon which I never forgot, and which persuaded me to 
seek the Hiving water.’ During several years 1 have been 
somewhat lonely ; but I have been brought near to Na- 
ture, and, as I trust, to God and to Heaven. And through 
these lonely years my heart has been kept from new attach- 
ments — kept for you, my sweet girl. Now I am here, 
securing the greatest treasure on earth, realizing a bless- 
ing far beyond my hopes. .Has not Providence been lead- 
ing you, dear Flora?” 

"Yes,” she answered, speaking in a solemn and earnest 
manner. "Providence led me to the old meeting-house. 
I heard the sermon which you heard, and, like you, I was 
persuaded to seek the 'living water.’ Providence has 
given me health, and a sphere of activity. I have been 
useful, I think, among the poor, the sick and the sorrow- 
ful. Meanwhile 1 have had much happiness. It is true 
that I have suffered a little ; but the suffering has been 
useful. When I looked to the world for good, and found 
emptiness, or experienced that all was 'vanity and vexa- 
tion of spirit,’ I learned the more highly to appreciate, 
and the more earnestly to pursue, the things which are 
'eternal in the heavens. 

" Providence will guide us in the future,” said the young 
man, speaking thoughtfully and earnestly. " We cannot? 
of course, escape all the ills of humanity ; we must have 


THE SICK LADY CURED. 


22 ') 


our share of burdens and sorrows ; but the God of our 
fathers and mothers will guide, sustain and comfort us. 
Let us trust in Him, and be happy.” 

" I am trying to moderate my expectations,” the young 
woman remarked. "There have been disappointments 
and troubles in the past ; there will be the same in the 
future. Meanwhile I confide in the care of the great, 
good Father.” 

" This morning,” said Mr. Branley, " I felt a momen- 
tary regret that three years of our youth had been lonely, 
and almost sad, when they might have been so different. 
A little reflection, however, assured me that those lonely 
years have brought gain and not loss. They have given 
us right views of life. They have chastened and im- 
proved us. They have strengthened our hearts and pre- 
pared us for duty. I believe these years of separation 
and loneliness have given us some special fitness for 
married life. We shall have a care for each other ; we 
shall have an appreciation of each other’s society ; we 
shall have an intensity of happiness — such as would be 
impossible without our previous experience. Why, Flora, 
I fancy that the lost happiness of the three years, if not 
more than that, has gathered and flowed into the last 
thirty hours.” 

Branley paused, and listened for a remark. Flora was 
silent. Tears, however, gave some expression to thoughts 
which could not be expressed in words. The young man 
surprised her by suddenly introducing a new subject. 

" Flora, would you believe that now, in the midst of 
my great happiness, I often think of Stafford, and pity 
him ? I am exceedingly glad that he did not get my dear 
girl, — such, I confess, is my selfishness, — but I am very 
sorry that he has so many misfortunes and troubles. His 
])usiness life appears to be a failure, and his married life 
appears to be a thousand times worse.” 


22G 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


” I pity him with all my heart,” said Flora ; ” and I 
ask my God to support and comfort him.” 

"That is right,” Branley remarked. Then, abruptly 
changing the subject again, he asked, "Flora, what have 
you to say about the wedding ? ” 

" How, and when, as you please, dear John,” she 
answered, in her sweetest manner. 

"You are right again,” Branley cried, with exuberant 
delight. "You defer entirely to my wishes, and you say, 
deal' John — the first time ; say that again ; say it often.” 

" Oh, you know, Mr. Branley,” said Flora, laughing, 
" that a lady must be careful, before marriage, how she 
says, 'my dear,’ and uses other soft words. She will be 
careful not to satiate or disgust her favored lover. Gen- 
tlemen use their sweet words before marriage ; ladies 
must use their sweet words after marriage.” 

"You are right — always right, dear Flora,” he re- 
sponded, gayly. " I am glad, however, that you said it 
once. That will do for a few weeks. I feel assured that 
the sweet words will come at the proper time.” 

" Well, you are practicing the gentlemen’s rule — flat- 
tering before marriage,” Flora said, growing serious as 
she proceeded with her remarks. "But deeds are always 
better than words. Deeds, especially when performed 
through a series of months and years, expose the heart — 
show just what men and women are ; but words — what 
are lighter, more unmeaning and delusive? Mr. Branlev, 
you have spoken many fine words, but I am going to 
judge you by your deeds ; and I expect that you will, 
sooner or later, judge me very much in the same way.” 

Mr. Branley and Miss Calvert took another walk. The, 
sick girl leaned again on her lover’s arm, although a sup- 
port was not, perhaps, so necessary as it had been on the 
previous occasion. They walked through the parlor, 
opened the front door, stepped out into the portico, and 


THE SICK LADY CURED. 


227 


stood awhile, looking over the fields, and surveying the 
distant forest. As they returned into the house, the 
young man addressed these words to the old lady : 

" If we. had pleasant weather, we should take a walk in 
the fields. A walk abroad, aided by good company, sun- 
shine and pure air, would restore the roses to Flora’s 
cheeks. But, Mrs. Calvert, you see that she is improv- 
ing rapidly. To-morrow or next day she will be able to 
make pies. Next week, or the week after, she will be 
ready for house-cleaning. And, in the course of a month 
or two, she will be able to manage a house of her own.” 

"We are under obligations to you, Mr. Branley,” the 
old lady remarked. 

" I am working very hard,” he said. " But I am very 
selfish : I expect a great compensation.” 

Mrs. Calvert smiled, and appeared to be well satisfied 
with the state of affairs. Flora and her companion re- 
turned to tlie chamber which they had left. 

Little Anna Temple came to see her grandmother and 
her sick aunt. She looked around with sharp eyes, as 
children are apt to do. She spied Flora reclining on her 
couch and Branley holding her hand. The little girl ran 
to her grandmother, crying out, 

" Why, grandma, Mr. Branley is doctor now. I saw 
him feel aunty’s pulse ; and his medicine must be good, 
for she looks so pleased.” 

In the afternoon Mr. Branley sent a note to Charles 
Calvert, whom he had failed to see. It was very short, 
comprising just these two sentences : " Flora’s heartache is 
gone. You must come to the wedding.” Charles, it 
may be presumed, understood the note perfectly, and was 
delighted with the news which it conveyed. 

Next morning, Mr. Branley, leaving Flora " convales- 
cent,” as doctors say, and promising to be back at the end 
of a fortnight, started for his home. 


228 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


When the young man had just disappeared at a turn 
in the road, Dr. Marsden arrived at Mrs. Calvert’s on a 
professional visit. He walked into Flora’s chamber, sat 
down, and felt the sick girl’s pulse. 

" Why, Miss Flora,” the doctor exclaimed, with a pro- 
fessional air, " you are better, very much better. My 
medicine has operated like a charm. Your pulse is 
regular, full and soft, indicating a rapid restoration to 
health. You will soon be perfectly well. Miss Flora.” 

The doctor was partly right and partly wrong. He 
was right when he said that Flora was better and would 
soon be well. But he was quite wrong when he said that 
his medicine had produced the happy change. He was 
wrong, because Flora had not taken his medicine. He- 
was wrong, because, in fact, another doctor, one John 
Branley, had visited the patient, and had administered 
medicines of a very different kind, with decided and sur- 
prising effect. Flora did not enlighten the old doctor, 
and he left ignorant of the fact that Branley’s visit, gayety, 
cheery talk, and overflowing sympathy and love, consti- 
tuted the balm, the elixir, the panacea, that had worked 
like a charm, curing the sick girl so effectually and so 
quickly. 

Rumors floated through the community. They varied 
from day to day, and sometimes were quite contradictory. 
According to one rumor. Flora Calvert was very low and 
could not recover. According to another rumor, she was 
well, or nearly so, and about to be married. Only a few 
persons had any real knowledge of facts. 

Mrs. Hall, who lived near the Calverts, went toEvans- 
burgh one day. Mrs. Mosman stopped her on the street, 
and inquired for the news. The two women had an ear- 
nest conversation, Mrs. Hall using her Irish dialect, and 
Mrs. Mosman using her mixed German and English. 

"We hear all kinds of stories about Flora Calvert^” 


THE SICK LADY CURED. 


229 


Mrs. Mosmaii remarked. " Some people say she is going 
to die. Others say she is going to be married. What is 
the truth, Mrs. Hall? We were all sorry when we heard 
that Flora was sick. We would all rejoice to hear that 
Flora is well, or getting well, and soon to be married. 
We all love Flora Calvert.” 

" Why, Flora is almost well,” said Mrs. Hall. saw 
her yesterday ; and she says she is getting better rapidly. 
She looks fresh and pretty ; in fact, one could hardly 
believe that she had been sick at all. As to her marriage, 
I can say nothing positive. Our Jim, passing along the 
road by Mrs. Calvert’s the other morning, saw Mr. Bran- 
ley mount his horse and ride away. That is a sign of 
something — is it not ? ” 

" O yes, that is a sign,” exclaimed the other woman. 
" jMr. Branley is not coming so far for nothing. There 
will be a wedding. And I am glad. I always knew that 
Branley and Flora would be married. It was fore- 
ordained. If matches are ever made in heaven, I am 
sure that a match between Mr. John Branley and Miss 
Flora Calvert was made up there ; they are so much alike, 
and have been, and must be yet, so fond of each other.” 

"If they marry,” Mrs. Hall remarked, "every person 
will be glad, and be ready to wish them much happiness. 
For my part, I think they would do well in all respects.” 

" I will go surety for Mr. Branley,” Susy Mosman said, 
raising her voice. " I saw him so much in the time of his 
schools, and he was always so gentlemanly and nice, 
speaking so kindly to little children and so politely to old 
people. I never passed him on the street without seeing 
a bow and hearing a pleasant word. And then, Mrs. 
Plall, what a noble, brave fellow he is ! These eyes saw 
him rush into the terrible danger to save poor Lambrun.” 

"I will go surety for Flora,” Mrs. Hall I’emarked, 
speaking warmly and emphatically. This good friend 


230 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


resolved that Flora’s character should suffer no eclipse, — 
that her bright qualities should not be cast into the shade 
by the qualities of another, however bright they might be. 
"I tell you, Mrs. Mosman, that Flora Calvert showed 
more courage than John Branley ever did. When human 
life is suddenly exposed to danger, any one may be brave 
for a moment. When the danger is fully seen, and when 
there is plenty of time for reflection, and one deliberately 
meets the danger, there is real courage. When that hor- 
rid disease was in the neighborhood, and so many were 
taking it and dying. Flora Calvert deliberately walked 
into our houses and staid with us, nursing the sick, and 
exposing herself to almost certain death. Her courage, I 
say, was wonderful ; but the Lord was pleased to preserve 
her life.” 

" Both are brave, both are good,” old Susy Mosman 
remarked, with much feeling. " May the good Lord bring 
them together, and give them a happy journey througli 
life ! ” 

Mrs. Hall left the village and walked toward home. 
She met Tom McConnell, who had been one of Flora 
Calvert’s early lovers. "No” had come from Flora so 
kindly and pleasantly that Tom continued to be her warm 
friend. 

"We hear,” said Tom, "that our old teacher is back. 
He has learned, I suppose, that Flora is sick, and has come 
to cure her. I hope he will be successful.” 

Jane Folsom, once the pretty blonde and lively girl, 
now Mrs. Durham, came tripping along the road. Ap- 
proaching Mrs. Hall, she began at once to talk about 
Flora Calvert and her visitor. Jane, though now a wife 
and a mother, was still fond of a joke. 

"We girls,” she said, "were always mad at Flora. 
She would neither marry Mr. Branley herself or let one of 
us get him.” 


THE SICK LADY CURED. 


231 


Were you really mad?” Mrs. Hall inquired. 

^'Yes; but we were mad on Mr. Branley’s account as 
well as on our own. Flora gave him a sore heart, and 
could easily have cured it ; but she would not, or did not. 
She is now sulFering for her cruelty. But perhaps she is 
going to make amends ; and if she does so, I hope she 
will get well. As for myself, I forgave Flora when Mr. 
Durham came along and asked me to be his wife.” 

Mrs. Hall concluded to leave the highway and speak to 
Mrs. Purdy, the woman whom Flora Calvert had nursed 
so tenderly and so long. 

"O, Mrs. Hall,” remarked Mrs. Purdy, with deep 
emotion, " I was so sorry to hear of Flora’s illness. She 
is the best girl in the world. I owe my life to her tender- 
ness and care. But she is getting better, — is she not?” 

" O, yes,” replied the other,” she is well, or nearly so. I 
saw her yesterday, and I saw no illness. She is bright 
and happy.” 

” God be thanked ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Purdy, fervently. 
” But is Flora going to marry Mr. Branley, that nice, 
good young man ? ” 

”I rather think so,” Mrs. Hall replied. 

” O, I am glad,” said Mrs. Purdy. "Flora deserves all 
that the world can give. May she have a loving husband 
and a sweet life ! With all my heart I wish her joy.” 

Thus the people showed their interest in Flora Calvert’s 
welfare, and indulged in speculation and conjecture. Mrs. 
Hall knew something about Flora and her affairs and 
stated what she knew. Tom McConnell approached the 
truth pretty closely in regard to one interesting matter. 
The people soon learned everything, and many were very 
glad to hear of Flora’s recovered health and bright matri- 
monial prospects. 


•232 


KONNEAUTT LAKE, 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

HAPPY DAYS. 

Me. Branley returned at the appointed time. He was 
delighted with what he saw and heard. Flora was in fine 
health ; she was even rosy ; and she was as lively, gay, and 
musical as any bird in spring. Branley and Flora met 
as affianced lovers. Besides enjoying each other’s com- 
pany, they had only one thing to do, viz., to make ar- 
rangements for their wedding. They chose for the time 
of their nuptials a day in June when the roses would be in 
bloom ; and they decided all questions relating to guests, 
the clergyman who should officiate, and the dinner. 
Haring settled everything pertaining to their marriage, 
tliey turned, with all their hearts, to the other business — 
enjoYmeoli of themselTes. They talked and laughed, read 
poems AT»d stories, sung hymns and songs, sauntered 
abroad j pressed each other’s hand, looked into each other’s 
face, and had, beyond question, the sweetest experience 
that can be enjoyed on earth. O blessed days! — the 
days of love and courtship I Alas I there are people who 
never enjoy them. 

During one of ffieir pleasant walks, the lovers came to 
an open wood. They stood awhile and looked around. 
Flora, growing weary, leaned heavily on Branley’s arm. 
The small event suggested a great thought. 

Flora, you lean on me now, as you have been doing 
for some time ; but I expect, in the great journey of life, 
to lean on you.” 

Mr. Branley, you surprise me,” Flora remarked. 
''You requested me, some time ago, to lean on you; and 


HArrr days. 


233 


you declared, very positively, that you would never grow 
weary. I thought you were the oak and I was the vine, 
and all I had to do was to cling to the big, strong tree. 
Is the oak failing already?” 

" Let me explain,” said Mr. Branlcy. "Men and women 
differ. Men are strong where women are weak, and are 
weak where women are strong. A husband and wife 
should be the complement of each other. Considered as 
one, they should exhibit strength, symmetry and beauty, 
or something near perfection. Now, permit me to speak 
of ourselves, and make an application of my theory. 
You and I differ. People, I am aware, used to say that 
we were just alike, — alike personally, mentally, morally, 
every way. I know they gave credit to both of us for the 
possession of good principles, kind hearts and unflinch- 
ing courage. But they were partly wrong. We differ 
— differ widely. I am excitable, impulsive, sometimes 
wild, almost insane. Don’t you remember the excursion 
on the lake and the debate in the school-house ? Now, 
you are always calm and steady ; you have perfect com- 
mand of yourself ; and you have great practical wisdom. 
You have, therefore, the qualities which I lack. In the 
future I shall rest on your calm, solid judgment. I shall 
be calm, steady, and safe, when I cling to one Avho is al- 
ways calm and immovable amidst the storms of life.” 

The young man spoke with a measure of seriousness. 
He had intended to state the truth. But he was conscious 
that he had indulged in some exaggeration. Flora under- 
stood him, perceived the facts, detected the exaggerations, 
and proposed to answer accordingly. Designing to mix 
serious thought with pleasantry, she remarked, 

" A man who is a little wild or insane shows the state 
of his mind by expressing wild opinions and manifesting 
absurd expectations. Therefore — ” Mr. Branley be- 
gan to laugh, interrupting her. But she presently added, 


234 


KONNEAUTT LAKE, 


To speak seriously, Mr. Branley, I fear, if you lean on 
me, you will be sadly disappointed.” 

” Well, Flora,” he said, speaking in a deliberate manner, 
” I do not suppose that you are perfect, though I have not 
yet discovered any imperfections. Possibly, I shall dis- 
cover some in course of time. And, possibly, I shall be 
able to supply what you lack. I may be supplementary 
to you, and you may be supplementary to me ; and so we 
shall present, or may present, a sample of perfection to 
the world.” 

” I am convinced,” Flora remarked, laughing, " that we 
differ ; but I am not sure that we can realize the interest- 
ing result of which you speak. However, if we succeed 
as well as imperfect beings may, I shall be happy. But, 
Mr. Branley, one of your statements has suggested an in- 
quiry. How do men and women differ? Or, what is the 
strength and weakness of the sexes respectively? Our 
case may be peculiar, and so prove nothing. Of course, 
you understand the subject, and can answer my question 
satisfactorily.” 

"You give me quite too much credit. Miss Flora. I 
know little about men and less about women. Then your 
question is really a hard one ; I cannot answer it satis- 
factorily.” 

" You remember what you told us in school. * Try.’ ” 

" I will try. Now listen. Flora. Men, compared with 
women, are physically strong. As to mental strength — 
well, there is the puzzle. It is said that, in the matter of 
abstract reasoning, men are stronger than women. It is 
said ‘that men can discern the nature of things better than 
women, — that they are not so liable as women to be 
caught and misled by tinsel and outside trappings. It is 
said that men can resist evil influences better than women. 
But I cannot affirm that all this has been demonstrated. 
Indeed,” he continued, passing to a lighter strain, " I can 


nAPrr days. 


235 


speak more readily of men’s weakness than of their 
strength. Men have a large measure of conceit, and 
must be flattered in order to be kept in good humor. 
They are impatient, capricious, often surly, stubborn, and 
tyrannical, and always selfish and exacting.” 

” Stop, Mr. Branley ; you have said enough — more 
than I wish to believe about men — much more than I 
wish to believe about some of them. Give me your ideas 
about the weakness and strength of women.” 

I have no ideas about their weakness. I never saw 
any weakness in my mother. I have never seen any 
weakness in you. Flora. The newspapers say that wom- 
en are fond of dress, notice, flirtation, dancing, gossip, 
and all light things — besides, must have the last word 
in a dispute or argument ; but I put no faith in the news- 
papers. The strength of women,” he said, leaving the 
light strain, ” is their ready wit, their loving, sympathizing 
nature, their faith and piety, their fortitude or power of 
enduring both mental and physical suffering.” 

"According to the general theoryj” Flora remarked, 
" men think, women feel ; men deliberate, women act ; 
and both men and women have bad faults. Does the 
general theory apply to us, Mr. Branley?” 

"It does not. Miss Calvert. The fact is, our case is 
peculiar, as you said it might be. The thought and de- 
liberation are on your side, and the feeling — well, each 
of us has a share ; the faults are on my side.” 

"But, according to your judgment, the theory is appli- 
cable to men and women in general.” 

"Yes.” 

"And, according to your judgment, ready wit and a 
fine emotional nature make women strong.” 

"Yes.” 

"Mr. Branley, I once heard a- gentleman say that 
beauty, and nothing else, was the strength of women. 


236 


KON.NEAUTT LAKE. 


The same gentleman now says that a ready wit and a fine 
emotional nature make women strong ; and he does not 
speak of beauty at all. Is he consistent ? ” 

"Flora, you must have written down my speech or 
taken notes. But I do not know whether to feel flattered 
or annoyed. Did you preserve my speech for occasional 
reading and study ? Or did you preserve it just to catch 
me and expose my inconsistencies ? ” 

" I did not write down your speech or take notes ; but 
I remember some of it. I refer to your speech now, 
neither to flatter or annoy you, but to point out a change 
of position. Don’t fear to be inconsistent, Mr. Branley. 
Don’t fear to change your opinions. It is a weakness in 
men that they hold to their opinions even when seen to 
be wrong.” 

"Let me show you, that I am not inconsistent, — that 
I have not changed my opinions, and have no cause for 
changing them. When I made my speech in the school- 
house, more than three years ago, I was a boy, speaking 
to boys and girls, and talking about boys and girls. 
Beauty rules boys and girls to-day. Now I am a man, 
addressing a woman, and speaking about married people, 
or people who have reached the years of understanding. 
iNIost certainly women are strong when they are sensible, 
kind and good. But, Flora, I do not now deny that 
beauty is a power in woman. I use the term still, but I 
use it in a wide sense. I can even affirm, positively, that 
beauty — that is, the beauty of face, person, manners, 
mind and heart — makes woman strong, and enables her to 
govern the world.” 

" My good friend, your strength lies in your ability to 
talk ingeniously and plausibly. But I think you have the 
common weakness of men : you cannot admit your falli- 
bility.” 

" My good friend, your strength lies in your ability to 


HAPPY DAYS. 


237 


detect and expose the inconsistencies, sophistries and 
foibles of men. But I think you have the common 
weakness of women : you must have the last word.” 

" Sir, you are at once a flatterer and a traducer, and so 
are inconsistent again. And you show most extraordinary 
weakness, as Avell as inconsistency, in another way : for- 
getting your disclaimer, you put all faith in the news- 
papers.” 

” Madam, you are too sharp for me. I acknowledge 
myself vanquished.” 

” Is that flattery, Mr. Branley ? ” 

” You must know, Flora.” 

The lovers had a good laugh. Then they resumed their 
walk, and conversed on different subjects. But Flora’s 
mind reverted strongly to the serious part of their 
late conversation. A sense of coming responsibility 
made her profoundly thoughtful and sober. Indeed, a 
conviction that Mr. Branley expected much from her com- 
panionship and counsel, made her feel intensely anxious. 
As they walked slowly towards home. Flora breathed a 
silent prayer that she might be fitted for her place in life, 
and might not disappoint the man who, as she believed, 
put an almost unbounded trust in her wisdom and good- 
ness. 

The conversation, during the late walk, approached a 
subject which is now frequently discussed, viz., "woman’s 
rights.” That subject caused no agitation in the early 
times. Women did not know, or suspect, or imagine, 
that they suffered any wrong. Indeed, it cannot now be 
seen that they had any special grievance. Boys and girls 
attended the same school, and usually studied the same 
branches. Sons and daughters, as a rule, inherited equal 
shares of their father’s estate. Boys and girls, men and 
women, enjoyed nearly equal measures of personal free- 
dom. As a rule, all married when and whom they 


238 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


pleased. It is true that woman was then recognized as 
the " weaker vessel.” But that recognition secured to her 
special privileges and immunities. Women had the 
lighter employments. Daughters received a more tender 
treatment than sons. Girls often wore nicer and more 
expensive clothing than was worn by their brothers. The 
married woman was practically recognized as the " better 
half.” Now and then the wife was seen in silk when the 
husband was seen in domestic woolen or linen. It is also 
true that, in family government, woman held a secondary 
place. The Apostolic doctrine that " the husband is the 
head of the wife” was very generally received. But 
women cheerfully acquiesced in what they regarded as a 
divine arrangement. Contentions between husbands and 
wives were uncommon. Divorce was almost unknown. 
Does the present time show an improvement ? Does the 
future promise something still better? 

Agitation will proceed ; but some things should be re- 
garded as settled forever. Woman must not be the fierce 
antagonist of man. She must not be a leader of senates 
and armies. She must not stand on the rostrum and 
attempt to sway the multitude by passionate declamation. 
She must not seek a training or pursue a career that 
would destroy, or seriously impair, her loveliness and re- 
fining power. At the same time, she must not be tended 
and fondled as an infant or worshiped as a goddess. She 
must be man’s rational companion, his helpmeet and his 
comforter. It must be forever true that woman attains 
her best estate when she becomes a happy wife and the 
"joyful mother of children.” 

Mr. Branley staid several days. He and Flora, now 
and then, called at a neighbor’s, gave a pleasant surprise 
and spent a pleasant hour. They visited Charles Calvert 
and his wife in their new home, and spent one of their 
happiest days. As they were leaving, Charles said to 
Mr. Branley, privately, 


HAPPY DA YS. 


239 


You are working successfully, and so is Flora.” 

A thousand thanks to you,” Branley said, warmly, 
"for giving me, and giving her, an opportunity to work.” 

When Mr. Branley was about to leave for home, he 
submitted a question to his betrothed, introducing it, how- 
ever, by some preliminary remarks. 

" Flora,” he said, " our wedding-day is more than six 
weeks from this time. Six weeks appear a long time to 
me just now. Then the whole of beautiful May comes 
between this time and our wedding. People tell that the 
days of courtship — days in which love is present and care 
is absent — are the happiest days which men and women 
enjoy. I trust that all of our days will be happy, — 
happy as they can be in the present life ; but 1 am sure 
that these days — the days of our courtship — are in- 
tensely sweet. Let us enjoy them to the utmost. Suffer 
me, then, to come back next month, stay a few days, and 
enjoy with you the freshness and beauty of revived nature. 
All beauty is heightened, bright hours are made brighter, 
pleasure is increased twofold — perhaps sevenfold — by 
the presence of those we love. And, Flora, let me find 
you fresh and rosy, and fitted, in all respects, to be the 
. queen of May. What do you say, my good girl ? ” 

"Your will is my will,” she replied. "Certainly I 
would be pleased to see you next month and enjoy with 
you the freshness and beauty of spring. As to being 
a May-queen, or a queen of any sort, I say this, — my 
highest ambition is to be queen of Mr. Branley’s heart.” 

"Oh, you are that now and ever will be,” rejoined the 
enthusiastic young man. 

The lovers parted as lovers are accustomed to part. 
Flora Calvert was alone once more ; but she had no sense 
of loneliness, — in fact, was exceedingly cheerful and 
happy. She had dreams in lier wakeful hours, and 
dreams in her sleep : all were pleasant. She was very 


240 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


busy now, preparing for her wedding and for house- 
keeping. At the same time, Mr. Branley was, beyond 
question, the busiest man in his neighborhood. He re- 
modeled and enlarged his house. He made a fresh appli- 
cation of paint. He purchased new, pretty furniture. 
Remembering a wish that Flora once expressed, he ordered 
some books and pictures from a distant city. He made 
large additions to his shrubbery. He exercised his ut- 
most skill as a florist and gardener, and even made some 
attempts as a landscape artist. In a word, Mr. Branley 
made a great and persistent effort to prepare a suitable 
home for his Flora. 


CHAPTER XXVH. 

STUDY AND LITERARY WORK. 

When the twelfth day of May arrived. Flora Calvert 
began to show some excitement. Indeed, at an early 
hour in the afternoon, she forgot or neglected her work 
entirely. She stood before the glass, smoothed her hair, 
adjusted her collar, and attached some fresh flowers to her 
dress. She frequently walked to a window and looked 
out. Sometimes she stood in the front door, and glanced 
along the highway. Once or twice she walked to the front 
gate, placed her hands on the paling, and gazed intently, 
for a minute or two, in a certain direction. Her face be- 
came surprisingly flushed, and she was even seized with 
an ungovernable tremor. What was the matter? At 
three o’clock. Flora, while walking in the front yard, 
espied a gentleman on horseback, approaching in a lively 
manner. She ran into the house, ran up stairs, looked 
out of a window, ran down stairs, ran to the door at the 


STUDY AND LITERARY WORK. 


241 


proper time, and met Mr. Branley on the steps of the 
portico. They met as lovers are accustomed to meet. 

Mr. Branley and his betrothed had walks and talks 
almost without number, and certainly enjoyed, in all their 
fullness and intensity, the pleasures afforded by youth, in- 
nocence, love, companionship and prospective marriage. 
The beautiful weather and the beautiful world often al- 
lured them from the house. They went forth every day 
and looked at Nature. They gathered pebbles, mosses, 
ferns, and a great variety of wild flowers. The scientific 
knowledge which Mr. Branley had acquired during the 
three years of solitary life, was employed in a way of 
which he had never dreamed. The young man actually 
assumed, once more, the position and duties of a teacher. 
He had only one pupil, but one was enough. So he gave 
instruction to Flora in botany, mineralogy, and other 
branches of natural science. The teacher was delighted 
with his labors ; and the pupil was delighted with her 
studies. 

"Mr. Branley,” remarked Flora one day, smiling, "you 
gave me the hard studies first — grammar and arithmetic. 
These are quite easy and pleasant.” 

"Flora,” remarked the teacher, laughing, "you gave 
me the hard life first. My life is now quite pleasant and 
satisfactory.” 

One day, as the lovers were passing a cluster of lilac 
bushes, they espied a humming-bird. They stood and 
watched its motions, as it darted from blossom to blossom, 
extracting the delicate sweets. They also noticed the rich 
colors of the winged, flashing gem. 

" What a beautiful little thing ! ” Flora exclaimed. 
Then, after a little reflection, she added, " Mr. Branley, 
you are a poet, and there is a subject for you. Write a 
poem on the humming-bird.” 

" I am no poet. Flora.” 


242 


KONKEAUTT LAKE. 


"You are, and I can prove it. I have the proof in my 
drawer. Did you not write a poem entitled, To Flora? 
Address something to the humming-bird, Mr. Poet.” 

" O, dear Flora, Cupkl, not the Muses, inspired me 
when I wrote to you in verse. I loved you, and, there- 
fore, could not do otherwise than write. Now, while I 
admire this pretty little tiling, I do not love it. How can 
I write verses to the humming-bird ? ” 

"Let your admiration inspire you. Try.” Observing 
that Mr. Branley shook his head. Flora added, " My dear, 
will you not comply with my first request? ” 

" O, my girl, I see that you know how to coax and gain 
a point. You know when to use sweet words. You 
know exactly when to say, 'My dear.’ I believe if we 
were not exposed to public view, you would put your arm 
around my neck, and — and — make resistance impos- 
sible.” All of this was said in the lightest and gayest 
manner. Mr. Branley continued : " But, Flora, I will 
comply with your request on a certain condition. Do you 
hear that turtle-dove.” 

"Yes, I hear it. I always like. to listen to the cooing 
of a dove. It is the softest and tenderest music in nature ; 
but it is mournful, and makes me sad. People say that 
the dove has been mourning ever since the flood, when it 
was separated from its mate and compelled to fly over the 
boundless waters. Whenever I hear that mournful sound, 
I think of Noah’s dove, flying over the dreary waters, all 
alone, hungry and weary, and cooing, even on the wing, — 
cooing piteously, as if mourning for its mate.” 

" Well, the dove is more worthy of poetic eulogy than 
the humming-bird. The dove is a model of conjugal affec- 
tion and fidelity. Besides, it is an emblem of divine 
power. Now, my bright lady, I agree to address some- 
thing to the humming-bird, on the condition that you write 
a poem about the dove.” 


STUDY AND LITERARY WORK. 


243 


'' I cannot write poetry, Mr. Branley. I never wrote a 
poem in my life. I once attempted to write a verse, and 
wrote two lines without much difficulty ; but the third and 
fourth lines refused to rhyme with the first and second ; 
and I gave up the task. Why don’t you ask me to tell a 
story? I could do that, and might gain a prize if I com- 
peted with you ; but to write a poem is quite beyond my 
abilities.” 

” You do not know what you can do, Flora. Take the 
advice which you have given me. Try. If you have 
failed once, try again. Rhyming, with a little practice, 
becomes easy. To put sense in the lines is the trouble- 
some matter. To confess a secret, I am somewhat 
anxious to test your intellectual powers. You talk well ; 
how can you write ? Those finely sculptured and delicate 
features ; those great, lustrous, wonderful eyes, with 
depths which I have not yet been able to fathom ; those 
varied, nameless, indescribable lights and shadows flitting 
over your face, promise much — profound thoughts, noble 
conceptions, brilliant fancies, and the sweetest, as well as 
the most refined, expression of the tender emotions. I 
am anxious so see whether there is an intellectual and 
spiritual nature corresponding with these fine indications . ” 

"Well, Mr. Branley, I will try. But you will hardly 
see what I write. I am not bound to expose myself just 
for your gratification.” 

Miss Calvert abandoned her household duties, retired to 
her chamber, and devoted her time and energy to literary 
work. Mr. Branley retired to the woods and invoked the 
proper muse. The poets thought and wrote during a 
considerable part of the day. Even during the following 
night some thinking and writing were done. 

Mr. Branley ’s visit was about to end. His horse stood 
at the gate, prancing impatiently. The lovers — poets 
for the time — walked in the front yard among the lilacs 


244 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


and other flowering shrubs. Each of them held a folded 
paper. 

" Flora,” said Mr. Branley, ■' I am prepared to read 
my poem. Are you prepared to read yours ? ” 

"O Mr. Branley,” she replied, with some appearance 
of affright and embarrassment, "I have written some- 
thing; but you are a critic, and I am afraid to read it.” 

"Dear Flora,” he said, tenderly, "I am no critic at all. 
Besides, I am sure that your poetry, whatever it is, will 
be very beautiful, sweet and precious to me. Yesterday, 
I spoke lightly and foolishly. I have been satisfied, 
during four long years, that you had intellect enough for 
anything; and, conseq[uenily, I do not wish to test your 
powers in a new way. I simply wish to secure, in poetic 
form, a memorial of these happy days.” 

Flora consented to read her poem. But she earnestly 
requested Mr. Branley to take the lead in the literary 
performance. Conforming to her wish, the poet-lover 
unfolded his paper and read as follows : — 

TO THE HUMMING-BIRD. 

O, wondrous bird, a moment wait ! 

Why dart away from me? 

I would notj could not, meditate 
An injury to thee : 

, Graced, as thou art, with every charm, 

No one could ever wish thee harm. 

Surprised — O, yes, enrapt — I view 
A rainbow on thy plumes, — 

Hues richer than the richest hue 
Of gems, or buds, or blooms, — 

Hues glancing on my dazzled sight 
As if a stream of rosy light. 

Planned, formed, and painted, in the skies, 

With beauteous Eve to dwell, 

Thou wast the Bird of Paradise 
Till she, deluded, fell : 

Alas ! now flown away from home. 

In this chill, dreary world to roam ! 


STUDY AND LITERARY WORK.' 


245 


Still joyously thy life is spent, 

Though far from Eden’s bowers ; 

Still thou art bright and innocent, 

And still among the flowers ; 

Still finding nectar, as of old. 

In cups of amethyst and gold. 

O, could I meet a friend or fair, 

In all the flush of youth. 

Who might, indeed, with thee compare 
In purity and truth ! 

No ills of earth would be deplored. 

With Eden more than half restored. 

O, when I walk in yonder grove. 

Where snow-white locusts blow. 

Or through the fragrant meadow rove, 

Where 'floral beauties grow. 

Be my companion ! let us range 
A world of sunshine, bloom, and change. 

Old Earth is bright with morning’s beams. 

And new-born charms arise ; 

The distant, radiant prospect seems 
Another Paradise : 

O, yes, an Eden, young and gay. 

Allures my little friend away. 

Dart, then, to yonder sunny vale. 

On silken, flashing wings : 

There blooming lilac scents the gale. 

And honeysuckle springs ; 

There every blossom woos a kiss ; 

There is thy home, thy world of bliss. 

There, midst the sparkling dew-drops, taste 
The sweets of every flower ; 

From scene to scene, enraptured, haste — 

From lawn to copse or bower ; 

And thus enjoy, from morn till night, 

A Paradise of fresh delight. 

Mr. Branley finished his task and looked at Flora. 
Her eyes met his. She had evidently listened with the 
keenest interest. And she remarked, hastily, 

"Mr. Poet, your poem expresses more than admiration. 


21(3 


KOXXEAUTT LAKE. 


You love the humming-bird. You want it to be your 
companion through the bright, flowery world. Or you 
wish to meet a lady just like the bird — fair, innocent 
and sweet — whom you may love and make your com- 
panion. I feel a little jealousy and alarm, Mr. Branley.” 

" O, my sweet girl,” the poet-lover said, putting his arm 
around Flora, and looking into her face, "I have met the 
fair one, and Eden is 'already more than half restored. 
Now, Flora, read your poem.” 

With trembling hands the new poet unfolded her paper ; 
and, making a great effort to control her voice, she read 
as follows : — 


THE DOVE. 

O, pity for the dove 

That flies o’er waters vast and dreary, — 
Finds nothing good and nothing cheery, — 
Turns to the ark with cots above ! 

Kind Noah, pity one so weary; 

Take in thy little dove. 

O, pity for the dove ! 

No land, no tree, no mate, perceiving. 

No gentle notes her heart relieving, — 
Turns to the ark for home and love ! 

O, pity one thus lorn and grieving; 

Take in thy little dove. 

O, pity for the dove ! 

Far o’er the waters flying, flying, 

No fruits, no seeds, no buds, espying, — 
Turns to the ark with stores above I 
O, pity one thus starved and dying; < 
Take in thy little dove. 

O, pity for the dove ! 

Thus lonely, wearied, famished, ailing, 
Her cooing like a soft, faint wailing, — 
’Turns to the window seen above ! 

O, pity her whose wings are failing ; 

Take in thy little dove. 


CONSUME A TlOy. 


247 


/ am a little dove ! 

And, wafted o’er a wide, wide ocean, 

The elements in fierce commotion, 

I look to One enthroned above : 

Thine, Saviour, is my heart’s devotion ; 

Give shelter to thy dove. 

I am a little dove 

That flies o’er waters vast and dreary, — 

Finds nothing good and nothing cheery. 

And looks to Heaven for home and love : 

O, pity one thus lone and weary; 

Take in thy little dove. 

While reading the last two stanzas, Flora was almost 
overcome with emotion. At the close of the reading, 
Mr. Branley found himself incapable of either speech or 
action. Presently, with a choked utterance, he said, 

''Flora, long, long ago, you sought and found the ark.” 

Both were silent for a few moments. But Branley, 
observing the girl’s continued agitation, and recovering 
his powers, exclaimed, with enthusiasm, 

" O, my sweet dove, fly to me, nestle in my bosom, and 
mourn no more ! ” 

Of course, she was taken into his arms and pressed to 
his heart. They parted, — parted, however, to meet 
again. Branley mounted his horse and rode away. Flora 
walked slowly into the house. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

CONSUMMATION. 

On a certain day in June there was a great bustle at 
Mrs. Calvert’s. A large company of friends and neigh- 
bors had assembled. Charles Calvert and his wife, Mrs. 
Hall, Mrs. Patton, and others, sat in the parlor. A 


248 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


number stood in the portico, chatting merrily. A larger 
number walked about in the front yard, looking at the 
flowers, and enjoying the fresh, beautiful morning. At 
ten o’clock Mr. John Branley arrived. The horses which 
he drove, but, especially, the carriage in which he rode, 
attracted notice and caused remarks. Of course, Mr. 
Branley received a hearty welcome. Charles Calvert 
grasped his hand, remarking, privately, 

" My dear sir, you have succeeded ; Flora is cured com- 
pletely. She never looked so well as she does now. She 
was never so happy as she has been during the last few 
w^eeks. I trust your pay is satisfactory.” 

" My pay is above estimation,” Mr. Branley said, warm- 

ly- 

” Well,” Charles observed, ”I suppose that Flora has 
really given an equivalent ; she has cured you.” 

At thirty minutes past ten, Mr. John Branley walked 
into Miss Flora Calvert’s chamber, and saw Miss Flora in 
bridal array. She was dressed with admirable taste, but 
wore no jewels, not even a ring. He paused a moment 
to enjoy a fair view of his bride. They saluted each 
other properly. Mr. Branley, sitting down beside Flora, 
took a folded paper from his pocket. The paper contained 
some verses. In the sweetest and most winning tone that 
he could use, he read one aloud, making, however, a 
slight alteration to suit a change of circumstances. It 
was this : 

See ! many, many guests appear 
To grace our bridal day ; 

And now the holy man is here — 

Sweet Flora, come away. 

lie took her hand and said, with a smile playino: over 
his face, 

"Four years ago, I cried, ' Sweet Flora, come away ;* 
but you did not heed me. What do you say now? ” 


CONSUMMATION. 


249 


With smiles and blushes, and beautiful confusion, she 
replied, most promptly and sweetly, 

" I go, I go, Mr. Branley.” 

He then led her into the large parlor, and, in a short 
time. Miss Flora Calvert became Mrs. Branley. Congratu- 
lations followed in profusion. The guests knew or sus- 
pected that both' bridegroom and bride had experienced 
trouble, and were glad to see that their trouble had passed 
away and great happiness had come. 

Mrs. Calvert and her aids employed their best skill in 
the culinary art. A great dinner was served ; all partook ; 
and all were merry. 

Early in the afternoon, Mr. Branley led his bride into 
the garden, conducted her to the enclosure formed by the 
rose-bushes, and placed her in the center. She stood in 
her snow-white bridal array, with some delicate flowers in 
her hair and a superb rose attached to her dress, while ten 
thousand roses bloomed around her. Mr. Branley looked 
at the roses, and he looked at Flora. Then he repeated 
these two lines of the poem which he carried in his 
pocket : 

Among the roses thou wilt stand, 

Most beautiful of all. 

And then he clasped her in his arms and kissed her. 
The thought which had possessed him four years pre- 
viously, when he stood on the outside of the garden, and 
looked at the sweet girl among the flowers, became fruition. 
The bridegroom and bride returned to the house. 

Mr. Branley’s carriage was driven to the front gate. 
And Flora, having made some change in her dress and 
put on her bonnet, appeared at the front door. The guests 
were surprised, one inquiring, "What does that mean?” 
and another exclaiming, " Surely, Mr. Branley, you do 
not intend to leave us to-day.” Branley stated that he 


2,30 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


and Flora proposed to make a little excursion ; but would 
soon return. 

Mr. Branley and his bride entered the carriage and rode 
to Evansburgh. They made several hasty calls, and re- 
ceived hearty congratulations. Then, leaving the carriage 
at a public house, they took a walk. Whither did they 
go? What object had they in view? They followed a 
path which led them among the clusters of elder bushes. 
They entered a small open area. They found a log, sat 
down, and glanced at the water and the distant shore. 
They saw no great, white birds sweeping and circling 
grandly in the upper air, or floating majestically on the 
water ; they saw nothing that was singular ; they did not 
even expect to see anything that would be specially inter- 
esting in itself ; yet they were thinking about gulls, and 
swans, and angels, and the "better country,” and other 
things, — that is, the sights, the talk, the experience, of 
a day long past. 

"Do you know where you are. Flora?” Mr. Branley 
inquired. 

"Yes, I know,” she replied. "I have seen this place 
many times. I sat on this log years ago.” 

" Well, some events, and, consequently, some places, 
cannot be forgotten,” Mr. Branley observed. "Here, 
four years and eight months ago, I first saw my ideal girl 
— the girl about whom I had dreamed for years — the 
very girl I wdshed to find. Here, three years and two or 
three months ago, we sat together. I seized and held 
your hand, but I could not get your heart. Now I have 
both. This log is rotting, but our lives are budding, 
blossoming, bearing golden fruit. We have a great 
triumph, a sublime joy, to-day.” 

"That is high-flown language,” Flora remarked, smil- 
ing. " Use common language, Mr. Branley, and I shall 
be able to understand you.” 


CONSUMMATION. 


251 


” Common language will not answer my purpose,” lie 
said, with fervor. " I wish to describe a great and won- 
derful change in our lives. We have entered upon a new 
existence. Let us sing. Flora ; let us make all the shores 
of Konneautt Lake resound with a song of triumph and 
joy.” 

" Mr. Branley,” said Flora, with suppressed merriment, 
" you are married now and should not indulge in extrava- 
gance. Married people should be sober, or, at least, 
sensible.” 

Flora,” cried the enthusiast, ”I claim to be just now 
both sober and sensible. Have we not cause for triumph 
and joy? Have we not conquered adverse, stubborn fate? 
Have we not obtained a complete victory over misfortune 
and sorrow? Have we not won the pure joys of love 
and wedded life ? I have no trouble to-day. And you 
have none. Flora. I see no tears, hear no sobs, witness 
no speechless anguish.” 

” I have no trouble to-day, Mr. Branley,” she said, 
turninor to him with a beaming face. 

" So I believe,” he remarked, taking her into his arms. 
"Flora,” continued Mr. Branley, in tones that seemed 
partly serious and partly playful, "you do not now want 
the swans to come and carry you away ? ” 

"No,” she responded, with one of her most charming 
smiles. "No, unless they agree to take two passengers.” 

" You are a true girl, — a true wife I should say now. 
We must not be parted.” 

Mr. Branley was silent for a short time. Then, pass- 
ing to a more serious mood, he remarked, 

" The swans can do nothing for us ; but the angels will 
do something. The angels will come and carry us to the 
* better country.’ ” 

'*Mr. Branley, we shall probably have something to do, 
and something to bear, before the angels come,” said the 
newly-married 'woman. 


252 


KONNEAUTT LAKE, 


*'Yes, Flora, but the angels will come at last. How 
much I wish they would come for us at the same moment, 
and carry us away together ! ” 

” My dear husband,” said Flora, touched with the ex- 
pression of his loving and tender but unavailing wish, 
"you think of what is not likely to happen, and what is 
really of no consequence. Do not trouble yourself about 
a momentary separation.” 

" My dear wife, you are a wise woman. I am glad 
that I have secured so good a counselor.” 

"You need a better counselor than I am, Mr. Branley.” 

"0,1 must not forget the Divine Counselor ! ” he said, 
with much emotion. " I will trust in you and in Provi- 
dence.” 

" I have promised to help you every way, and I mean 
to do it,” she said, in tones which expressed both tender 
feelings and a resolute mind. 

"Thank you! thank you, my good Flora!” Mr. Bran- 
ley exclaimed, with a bounding heart. "Let us, trusting 
in the Great Counselor, do our work and do it well ; and 
when the Master, choosing his own time and way, sends 
his angels, we shall be ready to go. Flora, let us 
return.” 

They rose, took their final look at Konneautt Lake, and 
walked back towards the village. They did not talk much ; 
but their minds were busy and their hearts were full. 
They reflected about a former walk on the same path. 
They contrasted that sorrowful walk with the present 
joyous one. They contrasted the sad hour when they 
parted, believing fully that they would never meet again, 
with the passing hour when they were united by love and 
holy wedlock, and expected to part no more. 

Mr. Branley and his lady reached the village, entered 
the carriage, returned to Mrs. Calvert’s, and spent the 
remaining part of the day in the society of their guests 
and friends. 


CONSUMMATION. 


253 


During an hour or two the old ladies sat by them- 
selves and had some quiet and sober conversation. 

" I like this wedding,” Mrs. Hall remarked. " Mr. 
Branley and Flora are so nicely mated. They suit each 
other in respect to age, education, habits, and manner of 
life. And then there is a strong attachment between 
them.” 

'' They will be a happy pair,” said Mrs. Patton. 

” In early girlhood,” Mrs. Calvert observed, " Flora 
was inclined to indulge in dreams and fancies. But 
dreams and fancies — at least, many of them — dissolved 
and vanished long ago. She now looks upon life and 
the world just as they are, and is prepared, I think, for 
whatever may come. Both Mr. Branley and Flora are 
thoughtful and prudent. They have not been spoiled by 
reading novels. They do not look for perfection in each 
other. They do not anticipate perfect happiness in the 
present life. They know that more or less toil, bereave- 
ment and sorrow are before them. But they read the 
Holy Bible ; they trust in the great heavenly Father ; 
they have the same purposes and hopes ; and they will 
have the support and comfort of mutual sympathy, care 
and active help. I believe that Flora and her husband 
will be as happy as people can be in this world ; and I 
am sure that they will be useful.” 

” We shall miss Flora very much,” Mrs. Hall re- 
marked. Poor Mrs. Purdy weeps every time she 
thinks about Flora’s departure.” 

"I shall miss her more than any one can,” said Mrs. 
Calvert, struggling to repress her emotions. " Flora and 
I have been special companions and friends for many 
years. I have learned to rely on her judgment and to 
look to her for sympathy and comfort. But, no doubt, 
she will be missed by the whole community. However, 
Mr. Branley assures us that Flora will be heartily wel- 


254 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


corned by his friends and neighbors. And as more or 
less suffering and sorrow exist everywhere, she wdll have 
frequent opportunities to show sympathy and kindness 
and pursue her Christian work. If we lose, others will 
gain.” 

This wedding-day was a departure from custom. The 
guests retired in the evening. And it was followed by 
no " infair.” 

Next day, at nine o’clock, Mr. Branley brought out his 
carriage again. Flora, dressed for a journey, stood at 
the front gate. Friends and neighbors clustered around 
her. The little folks caught her hands and her clothes, 
and said, with united and earnest voices, 

'' Aunty, dear aunty, you must come back again.” 

” Yes, my pets, I will come back,” she answered, with 
smiles and tears, giving each one a parting kiss. 

Mrs. Calvert stepped forward and addressed her new 
son. 

”Mr. Branley, do you hear what Flora says? She 
promises to come back soon.” 

"Yes, mother, I hear,” he replied. "Flora’s will is my 
will. We shall return in two weeks. We have deter- 
mined to make much of our honey-moon. We must visit 
our good friends at Konneautt Lake. We must have 
another excursion on the water, and perhaps will catch a 
fish. We must certainly visit Mount Hope, which we 
once thought was ^Paradise regained.’” Then, in lower 
and gentler tones, he added, "Mother, wherever Flora is 
there is my paradise now.” 

Flora overheard the flattering words, and, trying to use 
a little pleasantry — perhaps to hide her agitation — re- 
marked, her mother and her husband being the listeners, 

"Why, Mr. Branley talks like a lover.” 

" I am a lover,” he said, with emphasis, " and I trust 
ever will be.” 


CO XS U MM A TION, 


255 


Another trial of the feelings awaited th/ U . nearted 
bride. She heard the patter of little feetr . and, looking 
up the road, she saw three little ones approaching at their 
best speed. She knew them at a glance. They were Mrs. 
Purdy’s children, — Bessy, Mary and Tommy. Bessy held 
Tommy’s hand, and endeavored to help him forward. 
Flora passed through the gate, and met the children with 
a smile — perhaps also with a tear. Tommy stepped for- 
ward and tried to speak, as if by appointment, calling her 
aunty, as these children had constantly done after their 
mother’s illness. 

” Aunty,” said the little stammering boy, " my mamma 
says when you come back you must come and see us, 
and — ” 

The little fellow stopped, — perhaps for want of breath, 
— perhaps he had forgotten the other part of the message. 
Mary supplied the missing part, adding, 

" And you must fetch Mr. Branley with you.” 

” I will do all that,” Flora said, kindly, and even ten- 
derly. She took Tommy into her arms and kissed him, 
and then kissed the girls. 

Bessy had something to communicate. 

'' My mother wants me to say for her. Good-by, dear 
Flora.” 

Flora was deeply touched, and was just able to say, 

''Bessy, say to your mother for me. Good-by, dear Mrs. 
Purdy.” 

Mrs. Calvert and Mr. Branley stood near, watching 
and listening with great interest. But the time for sepa- 
ration had come, and Flora bid adieu to her friends. Mr. 
Branley, turning to his bride, asked, playfully. 

Sweet wife, are you ready to go?” 

Flora heard, and, moved by the same playful spirit, in- 
stantly replied, 

"Yes, dear husband, I am ready.” 


256 


KONNEAUTT LAKE. 


Mr. Branley placed his bride in the carriage, and then 
placed himself at her side. The horses, hearing the cus- 
tomary word, bounded away. Flora looked back, smiled, 
waved her handkerchief, and shed some tears. Friends and 
neighbors, as well as Mrs. Calvert, had an experience of 
mingled sorrow and gladness. All were sorry to see the 
dear friend go away ; but all were glad that Mr. Branley 
had got his beloved Flora ; and all were glad that Flora 
Calvert had married so excellent a man. 






jA 


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367 JPages, Cloth Tlxtra, - $1.25. 

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It omits nothing which a Complete Cook Book 
ought to contain. It has no rubbish— no padding. 

It is Valuable in the Dining Room as well as 
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Wines — a subject never before treated in any book— is 
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40. Bachelors and Butterflies. A midsummer diversion, 25c. 

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38 John Norton, M.D. Alvin Campbell. Love, bigotry and professional Intrigue, . 15c. 

37. Agatha. Augusta L. Ord. Love story, 15c. 

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28. Bob and I. Bessie Vlbert. Going up like a rocket — coming down like a stick. Funny, 10c. 
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21. Mrs. Singleton. A New York Society Lady. American society story, . . . 30c. 

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9. Nobody’s Business. Author of “ Dead Men’s Shoes.” The humorous phase of 

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8. Story of the Strike. Elizabeth Murry. Home scenes of city life. Illustrated, . 25c. 

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2. I'risons Without Walls. Kelslc Etheridge, “A strange, weird and marrowy story, ’’2)0. 
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But live like a beggar aud die in a ditch.” > 

( YOUNG DISCIPLE. (In press). Cloth, $1.25. A striking and powerful story of 
American Life, involving numerous scenes and incidents abounding in Satire and Humor 
of distinctive American types, comprising the Methods of Instruction in Sabbath and 
District Schools, Domestic passages at arms between Mr. and Mrs. Babbon, the Edu- 
cation of The Brand begun by Deacon Biggot and continued by Mr. Flinteye, etc. 

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. By Alice Irviko Abbott. Cloth, $1.25. A 
powerful story with a very humorous delineation of Western American life, when the 
” Deestrick School Committee,” the village lawyer, butcher, and deacon ruled the 
world. 

t'EACON CRANKY. (The genuine and original Deacon Cranky.) By Geo. Guirt 
Cloth, $1.50. A good story with a laughably humorous exposition of a worldly-wise 
New England deacon who likes horses, oyster suppers, “ road ” larks, and the man- 
agement of church fairs, — and who follows his likings, and runs a church. 

I tOFFENSTEIN. (Satchel Series, No. 36.) By Joe C. Abby, of New Orleans 
Times-Democrat. 10 cents. Funny Sketches of Iloffenstein’s “ tricks of trade,” 
comical stories of frontier life in the Southwest, etc. Hearty laughter throughout. 

(POOPENDYKE. (Satchel Series, No. 35.) By Stanley Huniley, of Brooklyn 
Eagle. Cloth, $1.00; paper, 25 cents. Domestic scenes between Mr. and Mrs. Spoop- 
eniiyke — a nervous, petulant husband and a patient, unsophisticated wife. The Oil 
City Derrick, the funniest paper in the United States, pronounces it ” the funniest 
hook ever published.” It sold over 310,000 in seven months. 

TERUSHA’S JIM. (Satchel Series, No. 32.) By May Stone. 15 cents. The 
comical doings aud sayings of a comical country boy, with a climax which lends a 
touching pathos to a thoroughly mirth-provoking story. 

THE BEWILDERING WIDOW. (Satchel Series, No. 30.) By Julia E. Dunk. 
40 cents. Story of Manhattan Beach, v»’ilh comical scenes between a dashing widow, 
a wealthy gentleman who is deaf, one wlio stammers badly, a managing mamma with 
marriageable daughters, and a French valet and his Irish sweetheart in the distance. 

now BOB AND I KEPT HOUSE. (Satchel Series, No. 28.) By Bessie Al- 
bert. 10 cents. A laughable and telling satire on pretentious bridal tours aud the 
” swell ” housekeeping of beginners. Very bright. 

OLD NICK’S CAM P-MEETIN’. (Satchel Series, No. 23.) By Eugene Owl. 50 
cents. Camp-meeting scenes in Texas, with more disasters than conversions, where 
“ M. Satan did not take a hand, but other people did — several, in fact.” 

VIC. (Satchel Series, No. 21.) By A. Benrimo. 26 cents. A graphic story and hu- 
morous satire on the patent-medicine craze and “shoddy” extravagances. 

POOR TIIEOPHILUS. (Satchel Scries, No. 14.) By A Contributor to Puck. 
20 cents. Part II. is a narrative of what happened to a /uhining youngster who per- 
sisted in fishing off the docks, and was taken by a merman down into the comicM 
“ City of Fin.” 

OUR PEGGOTTIES. (Satchel Series, No. 11.) By Kesiah Shelton. 20 cents. 
A good-natured exposition of the ridiculous features of the domestic “ Help ” 
jn-oblem, with numerous ludicrous scenes. 

NOBODY’S BUSINESS. (Satchel Series, No. 9.) By the Author op “Dead 
Men’s Shoes,” ETC. 26 cents. Comical mishaps of a family — with a pretty sister 
— struggling to “ keep up appearances,” which the Christian Union says, “ is to the 
reader w.iat a bright, cheery little woman is to the sick-room.” 

APPEAL ‘jTO moody. (Satchel Series, No. 4.) 10 cents. A satirical hit, in verse, 
on the politicians of Brooklyn and editors of New York dailies, as special subjects 
for Moody and Sankey. 

BONNY EAGLE. (Satchel Series, No. 3.) 20 cents. A vacation sketch, in a light 
vein, with numerous ludicrous incidents humorously narrated. 



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